Birds of Prey
by The Poarter
Summary: If a person wants to thrive in a world like the one I live in he has control his emotions so that he is not blinded by them. He needs to control his hate and channel to it where it is truly needed. In the world of mercenaries and assassins there is no room for the weak. Only money matters. Miss Delacour, today I stand by your side as your protector. Tomorrow I might be your killer.
1. Introduction to the World I live in

**Note: This is just an intro which explains why the world is so horrible in my story.**

**This is just an intro. The prologue comes later. If you want to read more of this story …**

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**Introduction:**

The world we know of is just one of the many universes. Every choice diverges the universe greatly and every choice has consequences.

Kill one hundred men and things only change a little. Kill the right two people and the very aftershocks will change the course of history itself. It doesn't matter how or why. It doesn't matter how significant. The fact remains that by killing one man you change everything.

In this world that is the case.

October 12th, 1984. That was the day the world changed. The First Female Prime Minister was assassinated. The method of use was a hotel bombing. Twelve people dead, nearly a hundred injured. The assassin had done his job and was paid appropriately. Now normally such actions would not have caused much problems. Despite the fact that the prime minister had been killed, it was just one of the many in history and many more to come.

No what truly changed the world happened a few days later.

October 17st, 1984. Just five days after the death of the Prime Minister, who was ending his term to be exact, was killed.

The weapon of choice … A point .500 Calibre Nitro Express through the skull from 2013 meters away. The President had been on his way to the funeral of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. He had step foot on the UK. He died at 10: 11 a.m., thirty seven minutes after he had entered the country.

The perpetrator was never found. Any form of information that could be used to find the assassin was never learned who killed the president was never revealed. The perpetrator has somehow vanished into thin air. But the two deaths they were responsible for had shook the world to the core.

After all, if the two most powerful and well-guarded people could be killed so easily how secure were they? It is the question people across the world asked themselves. The same question every thought that echoed across the world in the minds of every individual.

The aftershocks were predictable. Immigration tightened, security for important figures increased and the selling of arms skyrocketed and people panicked. However in another part of the world, the criminal underworld flourished and profited. With genuine reason to collect protection, new mafias and gangs rose up overnight. Mercenary armies were being trained in unprecedented numbers and well trained assassins found themselves being fought over like wolves.

No one trusted the government to protect them. They had failed the leaders in the people's eyes. They had failed the world. The people's trust in government vanished. In turn the very employees of their respective governments began to believe that they were truly powerless.

The world had changed. With two deaths the world would never be the same.

But that's the story of the world. Ours begins with a five year old boy in a street-fight.

It has been decades since those two deaths changed the world. It has been decades since every citizen has taken up arms. It has been decades as the world starts the long burn which will spiral itself into chaos and Anarchy. It will be decades but none of us who live long enough will find ourselves waking up from this nightmare.

Simply put

The optimist thinks this is the best world to live. The pessimist fears it is.

**Author's Note: By the way I actually do listen to reviewers. Someone pointed out how using historical figures were counterproductive followed by a detailed explanation and I have to say. I agree. I appologise to all the readers who were insulted when I did name proper historical figures. Please accept my apologies and READ AND REVIEW!**


	2. Prologue

**Birds of Prey**

**Okay everyone before you begin reading this chapter I hope that you take the time to visit my profile and vote. Thank you.**

**Prologue**

Vernon Dursly was a fairly large man for his age. Just at the brink of turning thirty five, Vernon stood 6 feet tall and weighed and hefty 200 pounds. His bludging belly was evidence that the added weight was not muscle but fat. In the years to come the belly, itself, would grow to enormous proportion.

Today however, was he calling a cab. It was raining as usual in london. The dark, contaminated water splashed on his cheap raincoat which protected his expensive suit. Black dribbles of liquid continued to let gravity take control as they drained itself to the sidewalk underneath's Vernon's feet. Today was a good day for . Not even the usually foul invested weather could dampen his mood.

Today he had finally managed to convince the bank to help expand his growing business. Most of the time Dursley made drills but every now and then he received and order for pistols. Very rare but there were there. In this world every business had their security armed and made weapons. Grunnings was no exception.

At the moment two security guards protected the entrance to the newly established Gunning's shop. At three stories tall the shop employed nearly 30 employees, something Mr. Dursley was proud off. He had made the entire company with his bare hands starting from nothing. Now he could happily consider himself a millionaire in a few years.

And best of all the bank had official decided to aid his growing business, giving him a low interest loan. The fact that such a thing was uncommon for small businesses made the deal even sweeter. There was no way this day could get any better.

After several years of working on weekends and overtime his hard work had paid off. He could spend more time with his family. Growing Dudley would one day take over his family business and Vernon couldn't wait for that day to arrive. His wife will be happy that he would be home early.

Only one mild fleck seemed to make a mockery of his happy mood. The boy. The blasted boy his sister-in-law had left him. Why he hated that blasted boy. While he was given a good stipend of 1000 pounds, to take care of him every month, Vernon had taken revenge on him by making the boy pay.

He cooked, cleaned, gardened and washed all the clothes. Best of all, the blasted boy, Harry Potter, was stuck in the cupboard for most of the day in hopes that he would grow unnatural and give Vernon a reason to put him down. Normally Vernon would be against doing such things to a child. His sense of honour would have prevented it from coming forth in the first place. But he couldn't. The boy was magical. And magical beings were dangerous.

He had learned the hard way ten years ago when his entire rugby club was attacked by a vampire. That blasted freak killed two of his best friends that day. And on that day Vernon was a changed man. He was a tougher man. That's all that mattered in his opinion. The ends justified the means.

Vernon still had the scars on his neck from the bite. Luckily for him he repaid the blasted abomination with his brass knuckles, spiked shoes and baseball bat a month later when he tracked it down. Who knew such skills would come to use when a couple of thugs tried to hustle him for "protection" money.

But Vernon wasn't going to let such dark thoughts cloud his judgement. Today was a day of celebration. Especially in a city as glum as London. At 8 million people living in is borders, London was a very large city. In the past few years the city had received a massive influx of people. With more people you have more competition for the same things and with more competition there was violence.

Tires screeched bringing Vernon back to his thoughts. A taxi had stopped in front of him. His car had broken down a few days ago and was still in the repair shop. So he was taking the cab. The cab driver an average, Eastern man simply nodded at Vernon before starting the engine.

Vernon sighed in relief, "Ah I can't wait to get home. It's been raining a lot this year,"

"That it has sir," answered the taxi driver, "Where do you want me to go?"

"Here," replied Mr. Dursley taking out one of his cards and which showed the address of one of his construction sites for his shop. It was close by home so he would only have to walk a few minutes. Besides he could use the exercise.

"Got it sir," nodded the man before turning left.

Vernon immediately noticed the change in scenery but merely shrugged it off. Slumping back into his seat, Vernon allowed himself to relax. Today was a good day. Today had been a good day. At the thought he couldn't help but smile.

"Good day sir," asked the Taxi driver continuing his route.

"Fine. Today I finally found myself the proud owner of a new piece of land where I could set shop," replied Vernon. For a moment Vernon wondered why he was having such a normal conversation with a stranger before shrugging it off.

"I'm looking forward to how this day ends," added Vernon half-heartedly, "Maybe watch something on the television,"

At that answer the taxi driver stiffened for a moment before chuckling. Seeing Vernon's stare the taxi driver answered.

"Personally, I find the best entertainment, sir, comes from watching something happen before your eyes. Something that makes you feel alive, makes your blood flow. It's the adrenaline that you should be after," explained the taxi driver avoiding traffic.

At that answer Vernon perked up. He was starting to like this man.

"Really. You seem to be a man who seems to know a lot about such things for, pardon me, a taxi driver," questioned Vernon.

For a moment the taxi driver ignored Vernon. However at a stop sign the taxi driver turned to Vernon. For the first time Mr. Dursley got a good glimpse of the man's face. A black moustache, with flecks of grey hair covered his body. There were a few wrinkles showing some age that probably backed up those man's words. But it was those eyes that sold him. Those eyes showed that this man knew how to have fun no matter how dangerous and thrived off of it. Perhaps he should listen.

"Looks can be deceiving Mr. Dursley. Some people just don't know where or what to look for look," Smiled the taxi driver.

"So you know a place," asked Vernon sceptically.

"More than just a place. Here's the location," replied the Taxi driver noticing Vernon's momentary fear before it disappeared. The taxi driver had merely pulled out a card.

"If you really want to find the something as exciting go to this location,"

A card was placed in Vernon's breast pocket.

"May I know what it is?" questioned Vernon.

"Oh you'll see," chuckled the taxi driver, "You'll see."

"I don't care what you see. If you want me to come to this place tell what this bloody place is!" shouted Vernon threateningly to the man. His face was turning red, his knuckles cracked and Vernon's adrenaline kicked in.

Instead of being intimidated the Eastern man merely smiled almost as if he was appreciating Vernon's reaction.

"I see that a man of your calibre wouldn't be so easily bought. Very well. This place is a fight club. Come to it if you choose. Mr…" trailed off the taxi driver.

Relaxing from the answer Vernon decided to add, "Dursley. Vernon Dursley."

"Vernon Dursley. Nice name. Has a ring to it. This fight club has many participants and we are always eager for more betters. If you truly wish to feel adrenaline pumping through your veins, come. Even bring one of your own participants," beamed the man.

"And if I refuse," retorted Vernon.

"Then I won't hold it against you," smirked the Taxi Driver, "But as you English always say. The more the merrier. Here's your stop."

Like the taxi driver had said this was Vernon's stop. He hadn't noticed it. Pulling out his wallet Vernon was about to pay the man before a hand stopped him.

"How much …" questioned Vernon.

"-Nothing. Consider it a token of good will. Bring lots of friends if you want," smiled the taxi driver before letting Mr. Dursley out. Cautiously Vernon did what he was beckoned to do.

The headlights of the taxi flickered a few times. Slowly the taxi built up speed and sped off. The rain pattered on Mr. Dursley but he didn't mind.

Fight club, heh?

Perhaps he could finally put that blasted four year old boy to good use. Smiling at that thought Vernon briskly walked home.

Vernon had believed that nothing could make this day get any better. He was proven wrong just now.

**Author's Note:**

**By the way I hope that this story one day goes on **

**Don't forget to READ and REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 1: Fight Night

_**Author's Note: By the way I am still holding up my poll for one more day so if anyone of you boys and girls want to vote please do so on my profile. Last but not least.**_

_**REVIEW**_

_**I'm serious. I haven't gotten a single review for this entire story. Please write a review.**_

_**Chapter 1: Fight night**_

A groan could be heard from across the arena as an eleven year old flattered. A kick to the ribs had knocked him down. Quickly his smaller opponent took advantage of his momentary weaknesses.

Harry bent his knees a little before leaping on top of his opponent sweat glistening over his body.

Harry raised his fist and brought it down on his injured opponent.

Not faltering for a moment from neither the pain or sympathy that were growing Harry plunged his hands into the collar bone of the year old pulling him up to eye level.

Crack!

The sound of a broken and popped knee echoes through the Gymnasium as people cheered at Potter's ruthlessness.

The eleven year old screamed in pain before being silenced by a fist to the face. The knuckle smashed into his face knocking the boy out. Blood spurted out of the larger boy's broken nose as he pasted out. Harry heard a long gasp from the boy before the body sighed. Looks like that was another person who had entered the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.

Adding a personal touch that showed his toughness, Harry smashed his foot onto the kids head.

The cheering grew louder as hundreds of men applauded the performance done by the six year old. In less than a minute Harry had knocked out his much older opponent against all odds. The most prominent of all them was his own uncle who was clapping wildly and shouting.

"That's my nephew! That's my nephew!"

Despite the pain he was feeling, Harry couldn't help but feel a little happy by making his uncle proud. Sure it was by beating someone up but he couldn't help it. Harry had earned Vernon's respect.

If there was one thing Vernon respected, it was strength. That was something both Harry and Dudley had in spades. While Dudley did come to the matches every now and then it was still much less than Harry. That and the fact that Dudley was still fact meant that betting on him wasn't a good idea.

It was why he fought every week. He fought both for Vernon's respect, something he had lacked for the first five years of his life, and most of all the increased standard of living.

It had first begun a year ago when Harry had been taken along for a drive with his Uncle. Vernon didn't tell Harry where he was going. That was until he recognized his school. He was very confused that day. Why would his uncle take him to the school?

Despite still being in pain, Harry couldn't help but reminiscence the day his uncle had brought him to his first fight. It was the start of his new life.

Apparently there were still fights going on the night they had arrived. A crowd had gathered around several classrooms and the gym as a group of spectators. In the middle of the ring were two twelve year old kids going all out beating the snot out of each other.

Several people were shouting at the two kids as they were doing it placing bets. For a moment Harry was terrified. Those were the exact same kids from the middle school in the neighbourhood. The bad one that his uncle and aunt had told him to avoid.

What was his uncle thinking?

Then his uncle had asked him to start fighting some other kid he had pointed at in the gym. There were no thick floor-mats meaning that if he fell onto the wooden floor it would hurt like hell. Only the good fighters and prominent fights had those kind of mats.

He didn't want to do it at first but then something miraculous happened. His uncle had said that if Harry beat up the kid he could have Dudley's second bedroom. His own bedroom!

So tentatively he had met the kid at the chalked arena. The rest was history. Beating up a kid twice his age wasn't easy. In fact it was nearly impossible. But for the first time in years Harry had felt hope stream through his body. He wasn't going to be locked up in his cupboard again. If he meant beating up another kid to get out of under the stairs so be it. He wasn't going to fail.

After beating up the kid, Vernon had kept his word.

Harry had gotten Dudley's second bedroom the next day. Then his life starting improving even more. Vernon had told off Petunia for underfeeding the boy that very morning stating he needed a strong champion. The pat on the back hurt from all the injuries he had gotten a last night but he was dammed if he was going to let some pain ruin his moment.

Over the next few months Harry's life slowly improved. Vernon had started by Harry new clothes every now and then, playing catch with Harry once a week and had even told Dudley off for beating him up. All Harry had to do was win his fights.

Harry didn't really like fighting at first. The disliked turned into indifference which eventually turned into excitement as Harry started to enjoy the adrenaline rush he received every match.

Every week Harry would go to the school or bar that his uncle drove him to on Sunday. It was when all the good fights happened. It was also when most of the bets were placed. Of course Uncle Vernon bet on him. It's he made most of the money.

Gingerly Harry made his way to the locker room. Vernon was waiting there for him as usual helping Harry put on his clothes. Over the past few months Vernon himself decided that it was a good idea to start fighting for the hell of it saying something like it got the blood pumping.

As a result Vernon could no longer consider himself obese having lost nearly 25 pounds in the last year. So far his record in fighting was 4 wins, 1 loss. The loss had result him a lot of cracked ribs but he recovered.

"Nice job skipper," congratulated Vernon has he patted Harry on the head.

"Thank you sir," replied Harry with a smile. Even though he felt immense pain from one of his cracked ribs, some soreness in his fingers and a sharp jolt of annoyance everytime took a step with his left foot he couldn't help but feel proud.

Three fights in one night. That was a new record for them. Usually he fought only once or twice every time he came to the school or bar. The location switched every week.

"Come on. Hurry up, you lazy bum," while those words might have seemed hurtful a year ago Harry knew better. His uncle held no malice against him.

"I'll take you out. Sushi, my little champion?" beamed Vernon has he smiled.

Harry merely nodded.

It was something they had grown accustomed to in the past year. Both Vernon had developed a closer relationship over the course of these fights. It was something Harry really enjoyed. While he was sure that he would never be as loved as Dudley was at home, Vernon's relationship with him was similar to a jockey and his winning horse.

Both relied on each other. The jockey the races or fights and the horse ran them. It had become a habit for the two of them to eat out after a fight. Just for the hell of it.

Every night after the fight, Vernon would take Harry out for a late dinner. Most of the time it was in the Sushi restaurant a block away but sometimes it was another café or fast food restaurant.

"Sure, uncle Vernon," responded Harry as he gingerly flexed his fingers. 46-3-3. 46 wins, three ties and three losses. Not a bad record for a six year old kid who normally fought boys and girls nearly 5 years his senior.

Noticing his pain, Vernon passed Harry some of his cream which he was thankful for.

Harry however knew why his uncle didn't want to stay long. By 10 pm both of them would be home safe and sound. They didn't stay very long because if they did there was a chance they would get involved in the adult fights.

"Thank you Uncle Vernon," thanked Harry.

"That's nothing. Wait until you see your birthday present," grinned Vernon as he left the locker room.

"But my birthday isn't for a month?" questioned Harry.

"Well maybe I'm giving it to you because I feel generous. I'll see you at the car Champ," retorted Vernon.

A few minutes later Vernon and Harry found themselves eating at the local sushi bar they went to laughing at some form of joke Vernon had told.

Harry had a few bandages over his face from some scratches a kid had given him that night. Nevertheless it didn't stop him for smiling as the two of them talked.

Eventually Vernon said he had to leave for a few minutes after looking at his pager. He actually wanted to visit the ATM machine to deposit the winnings. A good portion of it went to Harry's college fund should he decide to not go to that blasted school. With prices rising for tuition the boy was going to need every pound he could get his hands on. It was why there was over 50,000 pounds in his bank account. While Vernon did spend a good portion of it on the Dudley hand himself along with some pocket money for Harry he made sure the rest was put under the fund.

It was strange. A year ago he would have greedily pocketed everything the boy had got him. Now though ... now he couldn't help but sympathize with his nephew.

As soon as the transaction was made Vernon strode back to his seat to join his nephew.

All in the entire atmosphere was somewhat heart-warming. Even though the absolutely despised each other a few years ago one couldn't tell. The boy and the man simply laughed and enjoyed each other's company as they at their sushi.

_XXXXX_

What neither Vernon nor Harry knew was a black man was watching Harry fight the entire night. Frankly he had been impressed. The boy obviously had talent.

Walking out of into the school parking lot, the man went to the nearest payphone. Putting in the appropriate amount of money he dialled the number of his boss.

For several minutes a ring could be heard. After all it would take it several minutes to contact someone from another continent.

"What is it?" asked the man on the other end.

"There is a boy that I think you would be interested in here," answered the caller, "Goes by the name of Harry Potter. We could have some good use for him in the future."

"So why are you calling me from 1000 miles away!" shouted the man.

"Because I think his uncle is going to need some persuading. And it's going to take more than one man," replied the caller calmly. The president was just in a bad mood right now having been called at such a late hour.

It was understandable.

"Very well. I'll send three of my men on a flight tomorrow," assured the President after calming down. That was good.

"Don't threaten them unless it is necessary. If this kid is as good as you think he is pay the family first then call me if they disagree. Do you understand," replied the president.

"I understand," answered the caller calmly before hanging up.

The president would give him an answer in a few days. Whether they would recruit the boy would be up to him.

Author's Note:

**Read and review.**

**I do hope this goes on Tvtropes one day.**

**By the way I made Vernon more positive because frankly I didn't like the way he was portrayed in the books. The way his heel face turn happened was too unrealistic in my opinion. Here there's a reason for it. And it took nearly a year of talking with harry for it to happen. Don't worry people the Fleur/Harry part will happen. But don't expect it for another five or six chapters. I'm building up a backstory.**


	4. Chapter 2: To the Highest Bidder

**Note: Thank you all for reviewing my story. As of this moment the main part of the goblet of fire events will take place in 1999. Thank you all for voting and please continue to review. **

**This chapter contains violence, swearing and racisim. If you do not like it you are free to leave. Otherwise enjoy and remember. This is a crapsack world.**

**Chapter 2: To the highest bidd****er**

Four men sat in a red Camaro with racing stripes. Today was the day they made their presence known to the Dursleys.

The four men were a strange sort in this neighbourhood. With a predominantly white population and increased segregation of the years, no matter how unofficial, most people rarely interacted with others outside of their race. It was what made the presence of the four men such a surprise.

They were black. Most of all they were foreign.

Reaching their destination the four of them got out of the car. One of them took a glance at the neighbourhood around them. Immediately any of the neighbours who had bothered to watch the affair disappeared from their line of sight. As they did so the gossip mill went into overdrive as the neighbours began to formulate the many rumour about why such men were at the Dursleys.

One these men simply sniffed at the sight of the actions of the whites. Cowards.

The other slapped him across the face gesturing that they should get back to the job. The other two had already done so. After a short staring contest the victim of the slap relented and the two entered the house.

XXXXX

Petunia and Vernon Dursley were panicking at the moment. Four large, black men had decided to barge into their house without telling them in advance. No what scared them the most was the fact that each of the men were armed. Even though they were only Colt pistols the firearms still scared the Dursleys.

The person who was panicking the most at the moment was Vernon. He knew why the four men were here at the moment. They were after the boy.

"Why don't you go make us a cup of tea, Petunia," requested Vernon to his wife. She didn't deserve to see what he was about to do.

"Yes that would be a good idea Ms. Dursley. I have certain matters to discuss with your husband about my business proposition," recommended the leader of the group. He seemed the most menacing having a scar run down his lip all the way to his chin. It looked almost as if someone had tried to cut his lips off starting from one side.

For a moment Petunia sat stiffly at the man's request. However a glance at her husband told that she should leave at the moment and let him discuss whatever these men wanted. Gingerly she got up from the couch and went into the kitchen. Once she was out of the way Mr. Dursley found himself looking at the barrel of a gun.

"Now if I wanted to kill you I would have done it right here and right now. I've killed plenty of men like you. But our boss is a generous man. He's willing to pay top dollar for that boy you have. The "Winning Horse"," demonstrated the man before placing the gun on top of the glass table.

Vernon swallowed. He knew this was going to happen. A week ago three men had come to his office wanting to discuss some matters with him. At first he waved it off. However when one of the men subtlety dropped fight club he knew he was in hot water.

It turned out that they were interested in Harry. Apparently his skill was so great that the three men were willing to buy him for a quarter of a million pounds. While Vernon was a greedy man he was at least honourable. Over the past year the boy had grown on to him. All those nights they spent talking and laughing about fight club had really changed his opinion about him. What they were offering was a lot of money however. Even so there was no way he was going to sell the boy to the mafia. Who knows what they were going to do with him.

So tentatively he had refused the money.

It had come to bite him in the ass. Now he had four men with pistols and a gun just a few feet away from him. Vernon knew he could easily take on one of them. Two with his shotgun if it was on him. But four on one was so much for him.

"I believe that I have to respectively refuse once again," replied Vernon once again.

Even though every brain cell in his body was screaming at him for not taking the money and running he couldn't do it. He just couldn't make the boy suffer. He knew what the mafia did to the people they bought. The rumours were never good.

Suddenly two guns clicked as their safeties went off.

"I'm warning you Mr Dursley, my employer does not take no for an answer. Even a generous man like him has his limits," taunted the leader at Vernon for his weaknesses.

He always wanted to beat up every white British piece of shit he met. But unlike most of his men he had learnt to hide the feeling. He wasn't a fool to turn down potential investors due to racism. Even if he had spent half his childhood as a slave to one of those British pricks.

Slowly the man got up, picking up his Mamba pistol. The scraping of the metal against the glass echoed through the room like a cannon fire. The silence was disturbing. Very disturbing. Taking a good look at the living room for once, the leader couldn't help but find the arrangement pleasing. While these people did seem average they had taste at least. That and they knew how to arrange furniture in a way that it looked pleasing. The patterns of the furniture seemed to seamlessly integrate itself into the room. The wall hung with pictures of four people. A skinny and fat boy, a thin and sickle woman and a slightly muscular man. All four of them seemed to be smiling.

The picture hung over the fireplace almost greeting any of the guests who entered through the doorway. Yes these people had taste at least.

As Petunia entered the room she found herself staring at four men and her husband. Two of the men still had guns held at her husband's head while others seemed to be enjoying the scene in front of them. Almost lazily as if this happened every day.

Petunia dropped her tray at the sight of the scene. The tea and sugar fell to the ground staining the lush carpet. The liquid spread unevenly on the surface before sinking. Taking this as his cue to push the husband the leader turned around.

"You have a very nice home here, Mr Dursley. And a wonderful family," chuckled the man and Vernon felt himself turn purple in frustration.

"It would be a shame if you didn't have a smoke alarm. This house could easily burn down. And your wife and child. My they would make excellent slaves. Very foreign and exotic to all kinds of men with expensive tastes."

That was the breaking point for Vernon. Over the course of the man's speech his face had become redder. It was frustrating to remain silent.

"Are you threatening me!" shouted Vernon at the four men.

It went to show how angry he was as he still bellowed at them when there were two guns to his face.

"Because I tell you. The police –"

"-Will do nothing," finished the leader before taking a few steps to Petunia.

"The police have already learnt about our business dealing. They know that such things happen whenever criminals get together," smiled the man lifting Petunia's chin a little. It caused a little whimper which made him smile even more greatly.

"I am not a criminal!" shouted Vernon as he attacked one of the men.

He went down in an instant as they had been expecting this. But their boss had told them not to kill Vernon unless ordered to. So the target decided to non-lethally take down the British man.

As Vernon attempted to lunge at him, the African sidestepped a little to the left. At the last second he tripped Vernon before grabbing his left arm with his own and kicking him down.

The three actions took less than a second. In that time however the man was on top of Vernon, whose face was lying on the carpet. A gun was to his head and black leather show on his back. It was humiliating for Vernon. Had all that time at fight club and his experiences with vampires been for nothing?

In reality it hadn't. Vernon just hadn't been thinking straight. The man had and took advantage of it.

"You don't act like an innocent man," muttered one of his men in the background.

"Now, now. Let's not blow this," snapped the leader as one of his subordinate and then at the one who decided to talk. The first took this at his signal. Taking out a bottle, he started spreading Kerosene in the living room.

"Out of proportion", finished the man sadistically. It was like a butcher trying to calm his pig down right before the cleaver went down.

However as the words left the man's mouth his face twisted. Using his gun's butt he pistol whipped Petunia across the face. The wooden butt held from the impact. Petunia on the other hand went tumbling to the floor before she landed a few feet away with a broken jaw.

Spit, blood and teeth fell from her mouth as she resisted the urge to vomit. The sharp pain had left but it still hurt.

"I've had it with being nice," growled the leader to Vernon before pointing the pistol and Petunia. This action surprised the Dursleys. A moment ago he had been acting very polite and charming, minus pistol whipping Petunia. Now he seemed almost an inch away from shooting both of them.

In reality this was true. The leader Jengo, had a split personality which changed at a moments notice from all the drugs he had been forced to take in his youth. It had developed into something he couldn't control. It's why his subordinates were always cautious around him. Only the Boss could actually control him. Despite how dangerous Jengo acted he was nothing compared to the boss, who he tried to imitate in several situations. Like now.

"You have three options now. Option one, me and my men kill you and your wife, then go to little Dudley's school, kill him and then take Potter. Option two we burn this house down with you two in it, and then take Harry. This is London. I'm pretty sure your kid won't have such a nice time living in one of those horrible laboratories they call orphanages. Or option three," growled the man before lowering the gun.

"You take my original offer. You get the cash and we take the potter kid," he finished.

"Which one of them will they be?"

Vernon had been struggling the entire time underneath the man's grasp. His colleagues were just waiting to kill him. In fact they wished they could. But orders were orders, even if they didn't like it.

"You can't -" shouted Vernon. He refused to make a deal with the mafia.

Magical people he could believe would treat humans so horribly. But they were different. Despite living in London he still couldn't believe that humans could be so cruel to one another. Well he did but it wasn't until he had experienced it firsthand today did he start grasping it today.

"I can mothefucker! Pick a number any number," shouted the leader before pointing the gun at Petunia's head one more time, "Is it one, two or three. The wife, the house or Harry."

The gears in Vernon's mind turned as he was forced to accept logic. No matter what happened they would get Harry. The police would probably do nothing even if he reported it. Kids went missing in London every day. He would be nothing special

_Except the fact that he's your nephew._

Yes Harry was his nephew. But he wasn't going to put his wife and son on the line for him. Yes he had started caring for the boy over the past few years. But now the chips were down. He had to choose who to sacrifice. And it had to be Harry.

"Three! Okay. I choose three. You can take the blasted boy!" shouted Vernon at the top of his lungs. Instantly a weight lifted from his back as the man let him go. Vernon turned over.

"Say it!" shouted the leader.

Just then Harry and Dudley walked into the living room. The door had been left open so the two of them had decided to enter the house. Both couldn't wait to tell Vernon and Petunia about what they did at school today. That was until he found his uncle on the floor at gunpoint with Petunia in the corner sobbing from the pain.

The man who held the gun at Petunia lowered his pistol smiling at the perfect entrance of the two.

"Ah, you must be little Harry," greeted the man. The man seemed to be studying Harry for a minute before smiling.

"I can see why my boss wants you. You would make a fine addition to his collection," he added. It seemed almost as if it was an afterthought for him.

By now Harry was very confused. He was being collected? Why? And why were his aunt and uncle being held at gunpoint?

"Tell him you fucking cunt," swore one of the other large black men at Vernon. The man in question just stared at Harry pale and frozen. He seemed to be unsure of what to tell his nephew. After all how can you tell a six year old that you've just ruined his life to save yourself?

Taking his lack of words as a weakness, the leader decided to chip in.

"Your uncle just sold you to save himself," replied Jengo "Isn't it true, Vernon."

The revelation came crashing down onto Harry. He was shocked, appalled that his uncle would sell him for money. Why? Why him?

_Because he never loved you because of you. He only loved you for the money you made him._

The statement the little voice in his head was true. Even if he didn't want to admit it, it was true. His uncle never cared for him. He only wanted money. Since when did his uncle every treat him like Dudley? Since when did he ever felt love? Since when…

There were so many of since whens that it was galling. He had been lying to himself for the past month trying to deny the truth. He tried to believe it. But somewhere deep inside him he knew he would never accept the way his uncle treated him.

The revelation shocked Harry so much that his mind went into overdrive being forced to remember everything his uncle did for him, lied to him about. He had been given false hope.

He was fool to believe that.

No one loved him. No one would help him. No one at all.

He was alone.

That was the truth.

And he accepted it.

(Six Hours later at the airport)

Jengo couldn't be more pleased with himself. The job went without a hitch. Now all that was left to do was take Harry out of the country and they would, as the English would say, home free.

**Author's Note:**

**I really hope this goes on TvTropes one day.**

**Thank you all for reviewing.**


	5. Chapter 3: The Beginning of Hell

**Author's Note: Thank you everyone for reviewing. I hope to see more reviews in the future. By the way since this story is darker and more gritty then most Harry Potter Fanfictions expect lots of racism, violence and swearing. None of these people exist and the events that occur in this chapter are purely fictional although this story may contain events that actually happened.**

**Anyways Enough of that.**

**READ And Review**

**Chapter 3: The Beginning of Hell**

The seven children in the room were very nervous. All seven of them were boys around Harry's age but from different cultures. One looked like he was from Norway. Another seemed as though he was kidnapped from the Mediterranean. They were panicking and very calm respectively. Harry on the other hand was very nervous but didn't show it outwardly.

A few days ago he had woken up in an entirely different country. From what he gathered it was Sao Tome and Principe. A former Portuguese colony. It was why he had trouble speaking to his handler. They just couldn't understand each other. The only person who seemed to understand what he was saying were the four black men who had kidnapped him along with the six other boys.

For the past few days ever since he had found himself in this room, Harry had taken it upon himself to talk to the other six boys. They were the only company he had at the moment other than the mean looking handlers. The only problem was they all spoke different languages.

English, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, German, French, Norwegian and Turkic. It was very confusing. The most they could get out of each other was simple messages through hand signals. In just a few days the seven boys had made up to 204 different hand signs for many different words. So all in all Harry could easily make out what they were saying in a broken sense.

Even so there were many barriers. For one they couldn't talk in more than one sentence before the information sunk into the other six boys. After all they were still getting used to this new system. From what he could make out the boys had all been taken away from their families and institutions. Some were taken from orphanages, others sold to the man for money like him, while a few were even more unlucky. Their family had been killed in front of their eyes just before they were taken.

Another thing Harry had noticed was the fact that all boys were very strong for their age. A few days ago he had gotten into a play fight when he tried to talk to the Turkish kid about his family. The conversation didn't end well and the kid ended up tackling Harry to the ground trying to beat up Harry. It took the combined efforts of two other kids to get them off each other.

The punches hurt, a lot. Clearly the Turkish kid knew a lot about fighting. But then again he couldn't blame him. From what he gathered, Turkey at the moment was in the state of a civil war. Sometimes in the news he saw the body. Of course every kid in that country would learn to fight. Especially when your parents had been killed in front of you.

Ever since then both Harry and the Turkish kid, who learnt was Ediz, had barely talked to each other. Yes they had apologized to one another but that was it. All in all, Harry got along more with the Italian boy named Remo.

It was another thing Harry had noticed. None of their families were completely legal. Harry's own uncle had been a better in an underground fight club. Remo's father had been part of a kidnapping. Only thing was they picked the wrong boy to kidnap and the mob had taken him instead as vengeance. The most innocent of them was Guiche, who father had been involved in some kind of scam.

That was all they could get out of the other boys. It might have been a lot if it wasn't for the fact that they were spending entire days in each other's company. It seemed like a sleepover. That is if a sleepover didn't include getting beaten up by the handlers or being cursed in oblivion as the Portuguese kid had told him. Henrique at the very least was right. The guards didn't seem to talk the presence of the kids very well. It was worse for Henrique as he was Portuguese.

Since this was a former colony of Portugal there was a lot of resentment to him. Henrique got spat on a lot. It wasn't as bad for the others though. The most they got was a few curse words and the occasional kick if they didn't eat fast enough. They had three meals every day in the cafeteria which seemed to be full of random people every-day. The people seemed to be from military officials to doctors to even the occasional worker who discussing something with the handlers.

This didn't bode well with Harry. What could the Boss, which he had learnt to be the President of this little country, want with them? In fact what would he need that would require the presence of so many old people. It was something that didn't bode well with the others but they didn't seem as worried as Harry. So far it had been five days, judging from the meals they had received. Right after dinner time on the fifth day everything changed.

It was the day the President himself decided to make his presence known to the kids. He was an incredibly dark skinned man, in a grey suit. Tall and lanky, the president didn't seem like much. That's if you didn't include the fact that he was missing an eye and two fingers on his left hand. Clearly this man had seen conflict. Glancing at all the kids presence the president couldn't help but smile at the turn up.

Gathering the kids had been easier than he had expected. With the right amount of time he could have his own elite squad of mercenaries. God knows he needed it. With the cold war continuing on with renewed vigour after Reagan's death his country needed the best. But the best wasn't easy to find nor were they to make. It was why he had taken these kids with him. Especially the Turkish kid name Ediz. His men had taken him just in time. A group of freedom fighters had decided to attack the kid's village and killed his parents. It was a miracle his men had gotten him out in time.

Now one would consider why Kadokechi wanted these boys so badly when he could easily have used kids from his own country without the added risk. The answer was simple. Every one of these children was an exceptional fighters despite being raised in "civilized" countries. Even if they didn't want to admit it. Reports from his men confirmed it. The rich kid, Guiche took one two others his own age and broken their jaws sending another into a coma. Remo had killed a wolf with only a knife at the age of five on the way to school. And Ediz, while hot headed knew how to field strip a gun.

His country which had experienced peace in the past few years had no kids of such capacity and he couldn't kidnap anyone from Africa without raising suspicion and having it be traced back to him. After all in less than 15 years Africa could easily be as industrialized as Europe. A new superpower.

But that was not all. He could send his own men into many parts of the world without raising suspicion. This was due to their skin colour. While their training would allow them infiltrate anyplace in South America, Africa or the US it would be doomed to failure in any other region of the world.

The people would easily recognize his men as they easily stood out most crowds. It was why he had chosen white kids. Even if their skin did change in the hot sun, the change wouldn't be very drastic. At the very most some of them would have olive coloured skin. That said they would easily able to infiltrate parts of the world his men would be unable to such as Europe, Asia and North America. However the first thing he would need to train them in the arts of killing.

They were going to be his eyes and ears of the world. The men who grasped from the shadows. He was going to make sure of it. He was going to build and empire that would span the entire continent and these boys would be the key to it all.

All seven of the boys seemed to be watching him anticipating his next move.

"The life you know is over. Yesterday you were kids. Today you are my soldiers," Kadokechi imposed.

None of the kids moved to shocked at the revelation. All except two. The Turkish kid and the British one. What were their names again?

Harry and Ediz.

The first to react was Ediz. That was expected. Ediz had seen his country ravaged by war for years. He had been trained to fight since he could walk. It would make it more difficult yet more rewarding to have him under his grasp and control.

Charging at Kadokechi, Ediz took a sweep at his feet only for Kadokechi to take a step back. By the time Ediz had taken that sweep his leg was already in motion. As a result he was unable to stop.

It was what Kadokechi had been waiting for. Having spent years fighting for independence and on foreign soil, his reaction time had been halved. So while it seemed like half a second for Ediz, it was one for Kadokechi. At exactly the right moment Kadokechi stomped his foot lightly onto Ediz legs.

Lightly as in it the bone fractured. If he was serious he could have simply smashed his foot against Ediz knee and forced to the other way. But that would be counterproductive.

Nevertheless there were results. Ediz cried out in pain from the impact, his own men sniggered at the scene and the five other boys winced and whimpered.

The other boy Harry just sat their content to watch. Obviously he had scene something like this happen. Good. He might be an excellent mercenary one day. That was the first step of these boys.

Looking back at the crying Ediz, Kadokechi smirked. Any other boy would have passed out from the pain. The human body's pain threshold only increased every time it experienced something of greater calibre. Ediz had obviously experienced worse judging by the bullet wounds on his chest. It was then; Kadokechi knew that he had made the right decision. These boys would definitely survive his training regime.

Using one of his arms Kadokechi grabbed Ediz's head and pulled the little boy up to eye level. The eye difference was incredibly noticeable as Ediz's toes were two and a half feet above the ground.

"Listen here all of you," he growled to the six other boys, "From today onwards you will give me respect when I demand it. You will fight when I command you to. You will kill when I give you the order. There will be no whining. There will be no crying. There are two options in this program. You either fight long enough to live to see another day or you die. End of story."

There was another reason why he had kidnapped boys from overseas. Over the past few years the average citizen of Sao Tome's annual salary had increased to $11,800 a year. This also correlated with the increase competence of the local services in the little country. With a population of only 100,000 the kidnapping of 7 boys wouldn't go unnoticed. People would start asking questions. That was something he couldn't happen. If they did then there would be conflict. Sao Tome would become divided just a few decades it had been united.

The other countries in the area would take advantage of that. All 8 states of Africa would smell the conflict and take advantage of it sparking a civil war that would tear his country apart. He wouldn't have that. The boys were the key however. They were the solution. They will be his right hand and his weapon. To keep the other countries in line. If they don't and he fails Sao Tome dies. The other states would easily attack his little country to take control of its ports. It was an all or nothing gamble and Kadokechi was playing for keeps.

"For now you may hate me. You will despise me, wish I was dead. But when I have properly trained you, when you find yourself using the very skills I have taught you, you will be grateful. You will be thankful. Thankful that I took you away from a life of misery, petty morality, and weakness," he justified. He was going to make these boys see the world like he did.

There was no point lying to the boys. He was going to put them through hell. And he was dammed if he didn't.

"Your wrong," uttered one of the boys.

Kadokechi turned his head to the speaker. A six year old named Harry Potter. A very interesting family name. He would have to investigate it later to avoid the reprocutions from any powerful families.

"What did you say?"

"You're wrong," exclaimed Harry. He had to hand it to the boy for his courage. But courage was a dangerous tool. Too much and you rush head on into suicidal odds. Too little and your too afraid to do anything.

"Then prove it," voiced Kadokechi. His eye shone with confidence from over 40 years of expereience. The boy obviously sensed something. Good instincts. It was why he was hesitant.

"I'll make you a deal. If you can knock me out for one minute I'll take you home. You stay in wonderland and live a life of bliss unaware that you could have been anything more. If I win you stay here with me. You fight and kill when I say so. Does that seem fair?" hoping to encourage the boy.

Instead of answering the boy simply moved into a fighting stance. Ediz had slowly stopped sobbing and glanced at Harry. So did the other five boys.

"Are you insane? He'll kill you," screamed Ediz. Obviously his spiked soles were still embedded in the boy's leg. He'll live.

Ignoring the boy, Kadokechi dashed to Harry attempting to bulldoze the boy. At the last moment Harry dodged the attack. However Kadokechi was anticipating this and grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt and smashed his large fist against the little boy's jaw.

Sweat, drool, blood and saliva frothed from Harry's mouth. Despite this he still managed to find the strength to bite down on Kadokechi's arm. His canines pierced the man's expensive suit staining it with blood and saliva. Using this as a distraction, Harry attempted to twist Kadokechi's army.

However the larger black President was faster. Shaking his hand a little Harry's grip on him faltered. Using that to his advantage, Kadokechi grabbed Harry's arm and pulled. The arm nearly left it socket. The force however had pulled both Harry's shoulder and his ribs. Both were nearly torn apart from the force.

Last but not least was Harry's arm. While Kadokechi's pull hadn't been very forceful his grip was incredibly tight. So much so that it had crushed the femur bone of the arm snapping it in three and turning a good part of it into powder.

"You lack strength. If you lack strength you can't do anything. Strength, power, might whatever you may call it are necessary. Without it you can't do anything. Even protect yourself," explained Kadokechi before releasing Harry's arm.

The boy back away wincing from the pain he was experiencing.

"Little Harry. You might know how to fight. But by the time I'm done with you, you will know how to kill."

"I refuse," growled Harry even with two broken ribs before spitting out his words, "To kill."

Wasn't that what his guardians had taught him? That killing was wrong. That to take a life was something you shouldn't do. The pain continued to pulse through his little boy until it became too much.

He hunched over, spitting out blood, taking deep breaths. When he inhaled it felt like he was drowning. When he exhaled his lungs felt as though they were on fire every time they touched his broken ribs. He couldn't breathe properly.

His mind was getting foggy. Panicking Harry couldn't believe that he was going to die. Alone and like this. He hadn't even seen his tenth birthday. He hadn't even said goodbye to his friends. He didn't even know who his parents were.

Just then Kadokechi kicked the little boy turning him over and temporarily bringing him back.

"Broken bones grow stronger when they heal," he answered. His accent was still there.

Grabbing Harry but the neck, Kadokechi pulled the little boy up before forcibly turning his head.

"Look around you. There's a doctor. Two military officials, a lawyer and a foreign dignitary," showed Kadokechi before throwing Harry across the room.

The boy was becoming a nuisance. His morality was getting in the way. Even if it was a broken and reduced on morality was dangerous. In this world only two things mattered. Money and power. The world was heaven for those who had it, hell for those who didn't.

His back smashed against the wall. Pain coursed through his veins and Harry's muscles tightened. His spine felt twisted and he could barely stand. His ribs had punctured his lungs. A slow trickly of liquid drained itself into his organs as Harry resisted the urge to cough. He tasted blood.

"And I'm pretty sure that none of them would give a dam if I shot you right here," continued Kadokechi as he held a Mamba pistol to Harry's head.

The cold hard steel contrasted greatly with the warm blood rushing through his head. His vision was getting fuzzy. He couldn't think. All he could do was listen to Kadokechi words as they trickled into his head.

"So … predictable little Harry. And I thought you were going to interesting. More fun. But don't worry you'll have many, many more chances to entertain me."

**Author's Note:**

**By the way I do hope this story goes on TvTropes one day. **

**To several reviewers:**

**Triston: Yes Harry is going to learn how to use a lot of weapons. Particularly silverware. Just remember though. I want Harry to be a Badass normal so don't expect a lot of magic.**

**Kid Coheed: No do not expect something like that. He's turning into a mercenary after all.**


	6. Chapter 4: Today is the 7th of February

**Author's Note: Thank you everyone for reviewing my story. I hope you have enjoyed it so far. Don't forget to vote.. Here's a chapter that introduces Fleur into the story.**

**READ and Review**

**Chapter 4: Today is the 7th of February**

(Harry's POV)

I breathed the cold, frosty air of the small village of Albertaville. Today was the day I was going to pick up my client. As a bodyguard I was suppose to be imtimidating. But being a seven year old, albeit a one trained in one a region of almost constant war, wasn't very intimidating. Hell the client had been sceptical as if believing that I wouldn't be enough to protect him. They all were.

Standing at four feet four, I was much taller than other kids my age. This was due to all the drugs, nutrition and physical exercise Kadocheki had forced us to live through. Today was our first mission outside of Africa. It was a make or break exercise that would either make us well known, in a good or bad way. The six of us had bonded over the past year having had to rely on each other as we lived through the dangers of central Africa.

Malaria, wild animals and armed civilians were the least of our concerns in central Africa. Usually the seven of us installed order in chaotic regions who were forcibly controlled by Drug manufacturers and warlords. Say what you want about them but you had to admit, they were dangerous. And they were smart. At least enough to directly govern a body of unarmed civilians who outnumbered them 20 to 1.

That said, the birds of prey, the nickname we called ourselves, weren't the only child mercenaries in the business. We had met several others over the course of our operations. Whether it be assassinations, smuggling, bounty hunting, enforcing local regions or simply racketeering. There were always kids our age in the business. That was expected. With the "new" baby boom the populations of most countries soared. People were running scared believing that today was their last day. Sometimes they were right. Sometimes they weren't. Whatever the reason people had begun making quick decisions that took time.

And these quick decisions usually were having unprotected sex. Justified but idiotic in my opinion. It meant more kids. It also meant more competition for us. We fought kids in Africa around our age almost as much as we fought adults. I got a twisted knee from underestimating one young girl there. A maid we were supposed to meet. I put a bullet through her brain. Even so I learnt never to underestimate anyone.

But we weren't dealing with drug lords, starving kids or goons here. Today we were dealing with politicians. Men who hid in the shadows and snatched whatever they wished. Taking them down wouldn't be as easy as it was in Africa. Shooting them had repercussions if we had to kill them. Killing men in Europe wasn't enough. We had to destroy their image and tarnish their reputation making them unsympathetic so that the police didn't get investigate too deeply.

This job wasn't going to be easy. I scanned the hotel room one more time for my client. Her olive skin would easily make her stand out almost as much as mine. It was something all the kids developed from the hot sun; darker skin. Finally I spot my client. A middle aged woman of Spanish descent. I pick up two things. My walkie talkie and my large toy car which I had gotten. The thing was the walkie talkie was an actual walkie talkie and not the fake ones they sold to kids and the toy car had the parts of Finish Sako TRG in the back and at least 30 0.260 Remington bullets.

"Mama!" I yell cringing internally, _"Can I watch TV?"_

"_Yes. Right after we get to the keys to our room. Did you eat all your apple slices?" _replied the woman in perfect Spanish imitating me.

"Si," I replied. It was something all seven of us had developed. The ability to speak up to seven European languages and a dozen one in central Africa. That might seem unbelieveable but when your life is literally on the line and your under the employment of a boss who doesn't give two shits about you, you learn to pick up things very quickly.

Smiling down at me the woman ushers to me to the counter asking for the keys to the hotel room. In that time I continue to scan the lobby for any potential people who can harm my client. The woman name's is Chiquita Elvira Fine. She's currently a sponsor of a minor south Korean athelete who will be participating during these games.

My job is to protect her. However a seven year old with a sniper rifle is not normal, no matter how bad the world is, in Europe. Perhaps I should have taken a knife instead but I was trained to be ready for the worst. Kadocheki had told me to be prepared as he had heard a rumor that there was something big happening at these games.

Anyways my cover was simple. Pose as her son. It was easy enough as the woman was of child bearing age and had no children who would question her. Plus my olive coloured skin gave a form of resemblance. Unless someone looked too deeply our cover was safe along with the fake papers. The only thing I hate about this job was the fact that I had to act like a kid. I haven't been a kid for two years. I've killed my first man two weeks under Kadochecki's employment. It was frustrating.

How was I suppose to act like a seven year old anyways? What do they do to pass the time? How do they react to dangerous situations? A better question was how did they survive in such a horrible world? The only seven year olds I knew well were the six other boys who were part of my team protecting their clients as well.

_I wonder what they're at._

As I rode into the elevator using my little legs momentum I couldn't help but think that Kadocheki had a funny sense of humor. And I wouldn't put it past Remo to rob half these people blind. Oh who am I kidding. I feel the real leather of an expensive wallet. If he doesn't I will.

(Fleur POV)

Fleur Delacour was standing in the corner glaring at her mother. She had only taken one cookie. One! Okay maybe here mother had told her that she shouldn't have but they were cookies! Yummy, home made cookies fresh from the oven. She couldn't resist.

Her mother on the other hand didn't think so. And so she found herself in the corner, her dress ruined from the chocolate stains, as her mother continued to pat a crying Gabrielle. The two glared fiercly at each other until finally Fleur backed down. Honestly it was one cookie.

"Those were for your father," stated her mother coldly to her for what seemed like for the tenth time, "And for his friends that are visiting us today. You know he has a sweet tooth.,"

"But he's not home now. He's probably working late again," responded Fleur staring at the ground.

It was true. Her father did work late. He more or less worked as a Senator in the Muggle French Senate. The fact that he was a wizard didn't seem to diminish this fact as wizards and witches were generally treated with indifference by those who knew who they were. But her father was the exception. His sheer positive energy, hands on and practical policies and enuthiasm coupled with a disregard for Bureacratic nonsense made him a popular man. Even so her Father had to work hard and that more often than not, late nights.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Daddy's home!" screamed a ten year old Fleur running to the door completely disregarding her punishment.

Her mother also looked excited, if more reserved, as she strolled to the doorway with an eager Gabrielle. Both girls loved their father.

"If I get this reception everytime I came home I would leave the office early everyday," chuckled Mr. Delacour. Putting his briefcase on the wooden floor he swooped his ten year old daughter into the air and carried her to her mother.

"Madam, if I may. Pack your bags!" cheered her father to Apolline.

"Why? I mean don't you have work this week," questioned Apolline receiving a kiss from her husband.

"I took the time off," replied the senator as he strode into his house before revealing his tickets.

"Plus I won I pool."

Apolline looked shocked. For a moment she just stared at the tickets before smiling.

"Looks like we're going to see the games."

"Yay! When do we go? When do we go?" shouted a hyperactive Fleur as she jumped off her father and leapt onto the couch. She always wanted to see the figure skaters in person. They usually wanted go but because of their … nature her mother always brought unwanted attention to them.

"Tommorrow. So get ready," grinned the senator.

(In an unknown location)(Note: They're speaking in Francais or French)

"You sure this will work?" snorted a greasy, bearded man to his partner.

Taking a deep inhale from his cigarette the teenager smiled.

"Relax. Its basically a hit and run job. Make things go BOOM! Sprinkle a little anarchy. Make everyone go insane," retorted the man before taking a sniff of cocaine.

"Yeah but we've never worked with other people on this scale. Are you sure its worth it?" pondered his partner, "After all we are – "

"Relax man. Relax. Take a deep breath of this," interrupted the dealer before passing a drug to him. "And make all your problems go away. I got this covered. Besides what are they gonna do? Kill us. We know those cop shits don't have the guts to do such a thing."

"I guess," considered his partner before taking another whiff, "Yeah your right. No worries. No worries."

The drug kicked in.

"Yeah no worrries. No worries at all" smirked his partner, "Everything is gonna be alright. I got it covered. You worry too much. Besides I got ourselves some red cards. So after this job its smooth sailing."

The older man perked up, "Really? Those are impossible to get. No their impossible to fake."

"But their not fake. Tonight we drink, smoke and live mon ami. Tomorrow our lives change for the better."

**Author's Note: Don't forget to go onto my profile page and vote on the poll**


	7. Chapter 5: A different shade of Grey

**Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did the sixth and seventh book would have ended a lot differently. I also have to warn my reviewers in advance. I suck at romance stories. So be warned. I wouldn't have done a romance however if I didn't want the experience. After all I do work for a newspaper and stories tend to be something I have to write if my boss asks me to. By the way I have no idea if this would work so don't try this at home. Anyways, on with the show of this crapsack world.**

**DON'T FORGET! READ AND REVIEW!**

**Chapter 5: A New Shade of Grey**

Today was February 8th, the start of the 1992 Winter Olympic games. Personally I hated my assignment, The weather was cold, there was slush everywhere and my client was absolutely outrageous. She recommended that she buy me and a slice of cake. A slice of cake! However I couldn't blow my cover by swearing at her in the 20 languages I knew so I had to play along. In this case I had to actually eat the slice of cake. Granted it was tasty, sweet and filled with nuts but what was outrageous was that she was offering.

However the fact that she had offered the cake to me in a very public situation showed something else. One, she had no idea what my identity was. If she had, there was no way she would have offered me such a thing. As a mercenary and a soldier my body was a temple and I had to treat it as such. This meant daily workouts, eating the right food and intake of the appropriate drugs. I had no idea why Kadocheki had started given us drugs from day one but over time the seven of us grew to accept it. We were disciplined quite greatly for not eating our pills.

The second thing the ice cream told me was her personality. She was naïve. A true businesswoman wouldn't have wasted time buying me ice cream. If she had she would have done it in such a way that would have made her look good. The fact that she had the spare time to actually offer me such a delicacy showed that her schedule was not packed. It meant that I was meant to guard her for a few days. A shrewd businesswoman would have spent every waking moment of her time at meeting, assemblies or any other important events. At the very least she wouldn't be a doting mother like my client was.

I didn't dislike the change. It was just unusual. Back in Africa I either had to deal with two shades of people. The Grey and the Black. The grey people were like Kadokechi. They weren't the nicest sort of people, but they weren't the worst. Kadokechi actually had a noble goal in mind; protecting his country from attack. He didn't want to, from my knowledge, conquer and kill unless it was necessary. That said if it meant accomplishing a goal, Kadokechi would do anything. It was why the bones of every Birds of Prey member were super strong, nearly bulletproof ribcages. The constant beatings and "Pain Training" had taken its toll on us both physically and psychologically. Physically we were now stronger than any twelve, let alone seven, year old. It also meant that bullet wounds and stabbings hurt much less since we had gotten used to it. We do go jumping head on into a gun fight but after being beaten up, shot and stabbed for nearly a year you got used to it.

Two years ago I could barely handle a paper cut. Now I could take a .44 magnum bullet and still keep going before passing out from the shock and blood loss a few minutes later.

Then there were the shades of Black people, morality wise. They made Kadokechi look like a saint. All they cared for was money and their own personally pleasure. I've seen someone torture a person by forcing them to eat their wound balls and all I could do was watch. I was supposed to infiltrate their gang but that didn't mean I had to enjoy it. It was why I killed them the moment my assignment was over. In Africa almost every kind of Atrocity was committed on a daily basis, someplace somewhere. And no one cared. It had been going on for decades, why stop now?

It was why we served Kadokechi. Many of us thought of running in the first few months. We even attempted on a few instances. Hell, Leopolo, the German kid, once tried to escape using only his spoons by tunnelling out. Kadokechi caught him in the act a day later. But there was what surprised us. He slapped Leopolo before shouting,

"If you wanted to escape, fine by me. Just make sure you don't do it half-heartedly."

That statement shook us. He wasn't going to punish us for escaping. Why? He went through all the trouble of kidnapping us. Why wouldn't he do anything more severe like breaking his bones like he usually did when one of use quit? It was only a week later did I realize the answer. Kadokechi wasn't just training us to be soldiers or mercenaries. He was training us to be part of his legacy. He was training us to be leaders. Leaders couldn't be weak willed though. That was the first lesson he taught us without saying anything. When you do a job, put everything you have into it. Hold nothing back.

Over time our initial hatred turned to simple dislike to eventual indifference. Yes Kadokechi had done some horrible things. But there were always people worse than him. At least He always rewarded were reward was due. Kadokechi didn't seem overly sadistic either like many of the other bosses we met. In fact Kadokechi genuinely tried to keep morale up among everyone, whether it be us or his soldiers. Whether it meant pushing us to the breaking point or tipping us over the edge Kadokechi wanted us to be strong. He had been honest to us since day one. We were his soldiers. Now we were his to command.

But in order to be strong, we needed to fight people as strong as we were. It was why we were usually sent after high priority targets deemed too risky for his normal soldiers, when we weren't doing some mercenary work. Black operations if you must.

The people I usually killed on my assignments were corrupt politicians enslaving loads of women, drug lords who were too high on their own cooking to have any rational thought and warlords trying to carve out a little piece of power in a hostile continent. No wonder Kadokechi wanted them dead. It was also why I hated harems. It reminded me too much about what happened in central Africa. Seeing the bodies of raped preteen girls and the scars they received from many backwards traditions made my stomach churn. If I wasn't working I would be vomiting right now. So much blood … faces filled with pain … forcibly drugged. Nevertheless I snapped out of it. There was a special place in hell for those kinds of people.

Yes there were people much worse than Kadokechi out there.

But dealing with white people, morality wise was something I had trouble with. Like my client, Saline Medina. Generally the kind of woman who died young in Africa but survived in an increasingly hostile Europe. She seemed like a nice person but a year of killing had taught me to believe that no one was genuinely nice to strangers and that everybody was after something. But dealing with white individuals was difficult. People who followed the laws, loved their pets, were nice to everyone in general and non-violent. It seemed weird to me. I've gotten used to Africa so much that I've started to consider that everyone is grey or black, never truly pure.

But still it was … strange to meet someone who didn't intend to do me any harm and was as innocent as they came.

Sitting on the bed I glanced at the bathroom door. Saline had just started taking a bath. Correction, my client had just started taking a bath. You never say the client's name unless necessary. It makes you relate to them on a human level. In reality they're just paying you for something and you is their employee nothing more nothing less. To say the clients name demonstrates a form of attachment. And attachments are fatal in my business.

Sighing one more I reassemble my rifle; Telescopic sight, barrel, action, cartridge, stock, accessories and ammunition. I look my stopwatch. 1 minute and 20 seconds. Dammit, it's taking me took long to even to the basic field strip. Most professionals can do it ten seconds faster and the best can do it in under a minute. Granted this sniper rifle is more complicated that the other ones I've used since it's of Finish design, but's that no excuse. I have little to worry about my client at the moment. She likes to take long baths. Again an irresponsible decision.

The client and the employee never leave each other's sight for longer than necessary. The client in fear that any less loyal mercenary will easily betray them for greater amounts of money. The mercenary never leaves the client's presence in fear that the client will kill them in order to avoid paying what is due. Both are common in my world.

I point my sniper rifle at the bathroom door envisioning where my client's head is in case. Judging from the slashing sounds as she plays with the water, she's on the other side. I tilt my rifle four inches to my left giving me plenty of space to target her upper body. At this distance the walls will somewhat muffle the sound while still allowing the bullet to pierce her body. Even if I don't hit her in a vital position the blood loss will kill her. After a moment I lower it. She doesn't know anything. It's more likely that the client is working for someone bigger and that's who hired me.

Good idea as it keeps them unknown to the mercenary in case of betrayal. I can't help but say I agree. I check my watch. It's 4:12 p.m. Plenty of time before the opening ceremony. It is also plenty of time for my client to make a deal with whatever athlete she's supposed to do it with. I don't care. At the moment all I want to do was finish this job and go back to Sao Palme. I want to go home. Home. Something I haven't considered in a long time. Where is my home? Am I just meant to –

An explosion echoes through the air. The noise ripples through the room breaking me out of my thoughts and putting me on high alert. After a second the shock is felt as the ground vibrates. Kadokechi was right. Something is up. Grabbing Sako I rush into the bathroom, not caring about the screaming of my client or the fact that she's naked I lifted the small window.

Rule number three about being a mercenary, know your layout. In this case I knew the layout of this hotel room. There was a window here that would allow me to have a nearly 70 degree view of my surroundings without exposing myself to sniper fire. The bathroom window as also smaller meaning that I was both harder to spot and to hit.

"Stay here, remain calm ma'am. Everything is going to be alright," I reassured not glancing at here.

Keeping the client calm in dangerous situations was vital. Especially in such an unpredictable circumstances. Clients who panicked tended to cause a lot of trouble for the mercenary in charge. Once again it was fatal. I gazed at the surrounding areas memorizing the cityscape, the fleeing crowds and shouting military men. It was then did I realize something.

Those crowds couldn't have possibly grown to such size in such a short time. _This was set up! _I scope the surroundings trying to find the location of any possible enemies. Like I expected I see none. They're probably in the midst of the crowds. I look at the explosion and the damage it has caused.

However the moment that I do my heart stops. My mind turns numb and any emotions that I've felt, any semblance of mercy disappears. They destroyed a Casino. No they nuked it. They fucking nuked a Casino! The surrounding building is on fire. I could feel the heat from all the way here even if the nuke only blew up half the building. A small mushroom cloud dissipates into the sky as realization hits me.

Lepoplo's there! I take a deep breath in, steadying my aim and examine the area hoping to kill someone, anyone. I don't care.

You can make fun of us for being kids, pretend to be better than us, hell even threaten us with death threats. We'll laugh it off. But if you so much as touch a hair on any one of us, they'll be hell to pay. My eyes turn bloodshot from all the rage coursing through my veins. My pupils dilate allowing me to take in more of the surroundings. My eye lids widen and time slows down.

I see someone run out of the hotel, like a panicked person. I wouldn't have normally shot him but circumstances were different. I couldn't take any risks. Anyone of them could have killed Leopolo. I'm not taking any chances. It's what I would have done.

I fire my sniper rifle. Instantly a 0.260 Remington bullet exits the Sako TRG. My senses increase tenfold as I watch the bullet fly through the air. I'm in a state of hypersensitivity. At 601 meters away my bullet hits the target at 1, 099 meters a second. In 0.54 seconds the bullet hits the target. In .55 seconds the force of the blow as caused the target to be pushed back slightly before the aftershock kicks in blowing up his torso upon impact. I always have explosive rounds for my sniper bullets unless it is needed otherwise.

At .6 seconds after the shock a sharp recoil force pierces through my shoulder as hypersensitivity shatters. It's one of their weaknesses. Pulling back my sniper rifle, I close the window. No need to go on a killing spree … yet.

I look at my client. She's in a state of shock. The fact that a seven year old has just taken out a sniper rifle as big as him and fired has traumatized her. I don't see why that would be the case. Nevertheless I'm at a crossroads right now. I can either go after Leopolo or I can protect my client.

My decision is instant. Fuck the client. My friend needs me. Glancing at her I decide that now's a time to make myself clear.

"You did not see anything. You did not see me shoot from a sniper rifle. You did not see me walk in here. In fact you do not know who the fuck I am. Do I make myself clear?" I asked.

The woman nodded. However I knew that it wasn't enough. Given enough time in a police interrogation she could easily break. I need to give her a reason to shut up.

"Do I make myself fucking clear!?" I yell at her one last time.

"Yes, yes," she replies meekly before sobbing.

Glancing at her one last time I hurry to the bedroom. My job is done. Now it's time to save Remo. If he's dead, then there was no place on Earth that was going to save those bastards. I pull out my truck. No time to be subtle anymore. Grabbing the trunk and the wheels I pull the truck open. Inside lay 30 0.260 Remington bullets. Pocketing all the bullets I hurry to the Television and grab the remote and my homemade explosive.

Not wasting any time I strap the sniper rifle to my back and dash through the hallway. However I stop. Taking the elevator will leave me in an isolated location. It will also make my approach an expected thing. I'll take the stairs. Whoever these people are, they're professionals. There's probably someone waiting at the lobby with a mini-gun just waiting for a kill. That's right, taking the elevator was suicide. The stairs however provide a better option. Their unpredictable, more wide allowing me to dodge fire and there are three routes that are greatly space apart. However I know that this won't be enough. I can't just stop the people from knowing where I'm walking in. I need to stop that tracking me. In order to do that I have to destroy the cameras. I hurry back to the room I was once in and grab a pair of scissors.

Time to work my magic.

Every floor in this hotel had a generator that powered them. Most of the time the main generator was sufficient enough to power the entire hotel. But sometimes there was a blackout. In this case either the secondary generator or the floor generators would kick in. The only flaw in this system was the fact that the generators were connected. It was how they were able to kick in when one or two went down. This protected many hotels and companies from EMPs. What they didn't consider was someone overpowering the generators through the floor circuits.

Which exactly what I was planning to do with my scissors. I enter the electrical room. You know the room, that always says, do not enter, or like "Staff only". Turning the doorknob I groaned. Locked. Oh well. I lifted my foot up before kicking the door. All I left was a dent which was expected. Only some doors have a system that falters if enough force is applied. In a hotel like this I never expected such a thing. However when you consider that many owners want to cut costs it is something you consider as a possibility.

Removing my rifle from my back I smash the muzzle into the doorknob at a 40 degree angle loosening it up. Now I can lock pick it. Pulling out one of the skeleton keys I carried I began to shift the gears of the door.

Metal interacted with metal. Several silent shifts were heard until finally the door open. Now I'm in the electrical room. Taking a good glance at my surroundings I memorize the wires and how they are connected to each other. Each one leads to another room. There are many groups which lead to the same room. The similarity between apartments and the hotel are profound. However that's where it all ends. Glancing at the circuit boards I examine how they are connected.

Ripping the circuit board off I cut the wires. The lighting and heating changes for moment before everything returns to the way it was a moment ago. That is until I rearrange the circuit.

Jumping back I watch as the wires overheat from the insane pressure. I've just rearranged them in such a way that the electrical energy goes to the elevator goes to the lighting, the lighting goes to utilities and the utilities goes to the security on this floor and the hotel.

The end result, to my amusement is as follows. The cameras such down from the lack of power, the lights explode form all the energy they've been given in such a short time without any resistors to help slow the tide. Last but not least the elevators are officially dead. The unfortunate thing is the appliances in this hotel are probably fried. I hope they have insurance.

I can't waste time though. Disappearing into the stairs I quickly left the floor.

I've made too many assumptions already. There were thousands of ways my actions could have backfired. If I make more assumptions there will be problem.

But that doesn't matter now. All that matters is saving Leopolo. In a world were friendship is nearly impossible due to contradicting assignments, a mercenary greatly values anyone who supports him throughout his endeavours. I wasn't about to lose one of the people who supported mine.

(Unknown Location)(Once again everyone is speaking French)

An old man stared at the screen of a young reporter discussing the explosion and the current fighting between the Olympic security and the unknown assailants.

"_At the moment the security is facing major problems as the assailants of this Stadium have threatened to blow up another building unless they are given safe passage out. The death toll is approximately 201 people dead. From what we have gathered at least 24 of them were athletes who died when the blast went off," explained the reporter before looking at her partner._

"_Yes. Today is a day of mourning. What should have been day of celebration for the international community has turned into a blood bath. More people are expected to be killed as fighting continues between security at the offenders. We here at France 24 have the situation covered as more information continues to flood our networks. The situation on the ground is-"_

The unknown person turned off the tv midway. Soon, the Birds of Prey would be under their control. They were a wild card. Useful indeed but very dangerous. Having them under their control would benefit both parties. However the person knew the young mercenary group would never fully align themselves with them. That's why they needed leverage.

To force … their cooperation.

Author's Note:

Thank you everyone for reviewing and reading. Don't forget to vote on my new poll!


	8. Chapter 6: The Raven Will Rise

**Author's Note: The First thing I would like to do is thank everyone for reviewing my story. Especially Wolfking57. Thank you everyone for taking the time out of your day to do so.**

**The second thing I would like to say is that the poll is now done. The secret society that the Birds of Prey will join is the Dragon. The last and final thing I would like to say is that the political landscape in this fictional, crapsack world is just that, fictional. Please don't complain about how I bashed entire countries and governments. I'm just trying to show the reactions in such a crapsack world. Thank you for reading.**

**I do not own Harry Potter. If I did the sixth and seventh book would have ended completely differently.**

**READ AND REVIEW**

**Chapter 6: The Raven will rise**

"Leopolo!" I screamed running into the explosion. The screams of thousands of people as they continued to run from the detonation distracted me for a moment before I continued my search for my friend.

The glass had shattered around all the buildings in my area as a secondary nuclear explosion had kicked in. It seemed like a chain reaction. Most nukes had that these days. A secondary and a tertiary reaction that went off after a few minutes. Usually these were greater than the primary explosion. I didn't care how they worked right now.

At the moment I was struggling not to vomit. How could this have happened? I didn't care. I was lucky to be alive at the moment. The aftershock of the blast had vibrated the building I was in. When I took the middle staircase I had surrounded myself with most of the building. So while the rest of the building was collapsing and nearly half the people were dead I had found myself nearly buried in rubble.

I had to sprint through the door to escape being buried alive. Even so the dust had nearly caused me to suffocate. It only got worse for there. The secondary nuclear explosion had kicked in, ten times greater than the last one.

At the moment it was mayhem as people found themselves screaming in agony. I could feel a fever growing in the back of my mind. It was annoying and distracting. I had to find Leopolo and get him out of her. However the headache started to grow larger. My symptoms kept getting worse

Before the headache was only a dull pain. Now it seemed that a wasp had just entered my skull and was buzzing inside my brain distracting me and fogging up my senses. In seconds the pain escalated. It felt as though a thousand fire ants were chewing my brain trying to escape my head. The world seemed to be agonizingly painful to me as I tried to bring my senses back to normal. I couldn't.

I took one step forward. Pain erupted in my foot as the glass shards nearly penetrated the soles of my foot. The air felt toxic now as the fallout became greater. My hearing was completely destroyed now. I couldn't even hear the people around me screaming. Slowly my skin felt more sensitive as I continued to wince. Even a cool breeze seemed painful. The radiation and heat had destroyed my skin and made it nearly impossible for me. I could feel blood dribble down my neck from my ears.

Yes I had definitely lost my hearing now I thought. I couldn't even shout for Leopolo now without nearly fainting from the pain of moving my mouth. All I could do now was keep walk slowly looking for him.

BBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM MMMMMMMMM!

A third explosion occurred, causing me to pass out from the pain. The last thing my eyes saw as incredibly bright light right before I passed out.

My last thought before my inevitable end was how much I missed my friends. I'm sorry everyone. I'm sorry Leopolo. I'm sorry Ediz. I'm sorry Guiche. I'm sorry Remo. I'm sorry Espen. I'm sorry Jairo. Most of all I'm sorry Kadokechi. I'm sorry.

Those were my deepest regrets right before my body was consumed in fire.

(Twelve hours later)(Note: Oh you get the idea)

The French Military was working overtime at the moment. The nuclear fallout was catatrophic both physically and politically. As the French legion continued to look over the wreckage they couldn't help but feel pity for the poor souls who died in agony. Every one of the probably died hoping that someone would save them, that they could see their families. But in the end everything was in vain. Carefully looking over everything in radiation suits the soldiers knew they were looking for bodies, not survivors.

And it effected their mood. Sombrely the men continued their job, hoping that the bodies would give the families at least a little peace. It had been the worst terrorist attack in history. In fact it was all but a declaration of war. 20,000 dead, 81,000 injured and another 50,000 missing. If this wasn't a declaration of war what was?

After looking through the rubble the men found a small boy, no older than 8. His body was charred black. His pupils had all but disappeared and most of all his jaw was missing.

"Leave him," replied the sergeant to the corporal who tried to gingerly close his eyes.

"Will mark the spot here," reassured his comrade, "Then we'll give him a proper burial."

"It doesn't seem like much in my opinion but it's better than nothing," answered the corporal sombrely. No child should have had to die in such agony. It made him pity the Japanese. Was this what they faced after World War 2?

Was this war? He would never be able to continue that thought though because at that moment the body took a breath. The action surprised the man before he snapped himself out of it.

"WE HAVE SOMEONE ALIVE HERE!" he roared to his squad who seemed paralysed with shock before sprinting to his location.

Their team medic quickly started administrating painkillers and treating him.

"Come on! Come on!" he muttered under his breath as he tried to help the kid, "Don't die on me now. Please don't?"

Meanwhile his sergeant was roaring over the communication lines.

"Yes I repeat we have a survivor here! Yes we're sure! Send a helicopter to this location... Green smoke will provide the location of my squad… SEND A HELICOPTER NOW OR GOD HELP ME! We have a survivor! I DON'T CARE ABOUT PROTOCOL!" roared the drill sergeant meeting up with another platoon.

Fifteen minutes later a combat helicopter arrived at their location picking up the charred body of the boy. Lights shone brightly at his faces as he slowly started regaining and losing consciousness.

"It's going to be okay. Don't worry. Everything is going to be alright." Whispered someone into his ear. He lost consciousness after that.

(Two Days Later In Sao Palme)

Kadokechi continued to flip over the channels of his television. Everyone seemed to be talking about the nuclear bomb in that went off in the Olympic games. He clicked the remote finding himself looking at a tall, angry ambassador of America

"This is an outrage. Can't the world see that the Reds were responsible for this! I tell you this is just the first of –"

Click. The television buzzed for a moment before it returned to the broadcast of the Soviet Union's Secretary. The red flag hung in the background.

"Today is a sad day of mourning. Yesterday a nuclear warhead went off. Unfortunately one of our own perished in the blast. Please hold a moment of silence for ambassador -"

Click. The channel changed to a young South Korean reporter, explaining the aftershocks. The woman detailed the changes in North Korea and how the military was mobilizing on a map.

"Satellite Reports show that North Korea is militarizing its navy. Several battlefleets and regiments have been sighted close to the South Korean border. In other news the deaths of 30 South Korean atheletes as caused the country to temporarily withdrawn from the Olympic games."

Click. The scene changed to a French Senator who was calmly if tiredly explaining the location of the Prime Minister over a dozen reporters.

"The Royal French Air force has been deployed in the skies above Albertville. At the moment the Prime Minister is unable to comment on his reaction to the news"

Click. CNN at the moment was discussing the argument between Germany and France

"At the moment customs officers are having problems with several thousand German soldiers who have entered Albertville. The soldiers refuse to disarm stating that the deaths of several of their people are the fault of the lax French security. More is to -"

Click. Kadokechi couldn't help but sigh as he turned off the Television. The world was in chaos and his boys were caught in the crossfire. Perhaps he had been too ambitious. He could remember the looks on their faces when they learned that no one could find Lepoplo's body. It had also stung him as well.

He also couldn't help but feel volatile. There were hundreds of thousands of people dying at the moment the most they could say is how glad they were that many of the athletes never arrived. The nuke had been well planned in his opinion. It didn't go wrong like Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The location was also strategically placed allowing it to cause the maximum amount of casualties. Then it was combined with the fact that they actually let the terrorists go when they took hostages.

Just an hour before the nuke went off there was a hostage situation that was quietly being attended to by the French armed Forces. Unfortunately they refused to risk the lives of the hostages and the assailants capitalized on that by blowing up the town. It was a horrible blunder that French were trying to cover up. As a result the detonation seemed random as no one wanted to explain how they had failed. It angered him so much. He hadn't heard a word from his informants about the boys other than the fact that Leopolo was definetly dead, having been at ground zero when everything went to hell.

He had seen men die before his very eyes, entire villages of young children who were robbed a childhood because of pointless wars, yet the death of one of the boys had cut him deeper than anything else. As the boys kept continuing their operations that sympathy grew until he found himself longing for a new ambition. To create an empire of all of Africa. An empire that was not in a state of anarchy or powerless like the African Union. He wanted an empire where every person cared for their neighbours.

It was why he had sent the boys on such a mission overseas. He wanted them to have the experience of dealing with different kinds of people. They were his tools, his soldiers and his weapons. But why did is sting so much when one of them died?

Why did it hurt?

The reason was simple. Over the years he had come to like the boys. He had personally supervised and participated in their training from day one. Practice with live ammunition, hunting for food on his little island, teaching them common sense, geography and military tactics and finally getting to know the boys themselves, if only to motivate them. Yet the more time he spent around them the more he came to care for his boys.

They were still his guns but he couldn't help but feel guilty for Lepolo's death. It was so easy to detach yourself from someone you didn't actively know on a personal basis. It was much harder when you started to learn their personal history, their hobbies, their dreams and their motivations.

He knew Leopolo liked singing. The boy wanted to be Elvis all over again. He was also so smart, capable of repairing anything from the clock to the oven. Lepolo loved machines. He also loved working. Of all the boys Lepolo loved working for him because it took his mind off the family that had abused him greatly. Sure Kadokechi broke his bones but he wanted Lepolo to be strong. His parents did nothing of that sort.

His mother was a druggie in East Germany, whoring herself to any man who could have her to spite his father. His father was a penniless fool who had married his mother in hopes of a better life from the poor misery. Both had taken their frustrations out on Lepolo who barely had enough to eat when he took him.

It was why Leopolo was violent. He had to fight the kids in his school for their lunches because the money his parents made went to cocaine and alcohol. It was also why Leopolo wanted to escape Kadokechi's grasp the most at first. In his eyes he was just like his father. So in order to discourage him, Kadokechi had started talking to the boy. It had soon turned into a routine until the boy finally gave up escaping.

Its why he missed the boy. Staring down at the photo of the eight of them in one picture, Kadokechi couldn't help but growl. He was going to make those bastards pay for what they did.

His dreams of an empire built on trust came crashing down. In this increasingly hostile world he was going to make an empire that no one would want to cross. He was going to make the empire the greatest military power in the world. But most of all he had had it with playing "nice" with his opponents. The gloves came off today.

It was what made Kadokechi different from most of the other leaders in Africa. He actually cared for his men. He didn't coodle them and would gladly execute them for incompetence and treachery, but that didn't mean he didn't value their lives. It was why many followed him. Both in fear of his disappointment and wrath but also because of their respect to Kadokechi as a man who had bested everyone. He was more a father to his men than half the other leaders of this world.

Looking down at the photo one more time Kadokechi couldn't help but glare darkly at it. The eight people faces were mocking him. Those were the happier times.

**Author's Note: Imagine Kadokechi as Chief Mendez from Halo. Yes he's brutal to all the kids but he wants the best out of them.**

**By the way I hope you guys go to my poll later and vote on Harry's recovery time.**

**For those wondering the kilotons of the nuke here it is. They are all between the 5-6 grey range.**

**First: .01 kilotons**

**Second: 0.1 kilotons**

**Third: 1 kiloton**


	9. Chapter 7: First Encounters

**Author's Note:**

**Personally I would like to thank everyone for reviewing my story. It keeps me motivated to continue.**

**I would also like to thank everyone who voted on my poll. It is still up and anyone wishing to vote may do so.**

**To all you who have been patiently waiting, here is their first meeting.**

**Another thing: Every time a language other than English will be Italics or be told beforehand when the group is conversing or in at the beginning of the chapter. I can translate and write the languages given enough time but it's very difficult to do so and I'm not a professional interpreter so things may or may not be off.**

**Chapter 7: First Encounters**

The sound of laughter echoed through my mind. Of all the times we shared. All the times me and my friends did the impossible. Most would say that what we did was impossible, yet we did it. On a weekly basis.

I felt a pang of sadness chorus throughout my thoughts. Lepolo was dead and he was going stay that way. I couldn't even cry. For some reasons my eyes refused to do so almost as if my tear ducts had been permanently removed.

Then my senses returned. The first thing I saw was a scorching hot light before my vision became foggy again.

At first my vision was foggy and unclear and my senses stayed that way. Eventually my other senses partly returned. My hearing was pitched and painful but it was still there. I could smell burnt flesh and the cold, dead steel. Shouting occurred in the distance. All I could make out at the moment were a few words; awake, sleep, sedative.

That was all I knew and I was glad. I had been taught never to ask questions and I still lived by that. It lessened the pain of my life. It also lessened the trauma. After all how can you tell what is traumatizing when you've been accustomed to it your entire life. It was this reason why I didn't even weakly resist the drug, joyful that I could return to the bliss ignorance of the unconsciousness before my reality would eventually come crashing down.

The dream that I had was pleasant. It was filled with me, kadokechi and the Birds of Prey building a house. Probably one of the most fun activities we would ever have. Kadokechi was laughing and telling us to hurry up. Remo was teasing Guiche about his crush and Lepolo was still alive. In fact he was trying to get everyone else to sing. God he loved singing. Lepolo liked doing that. Singing.

But then I remembered that he was dead. Soon the dream turned into a nightmare. Lepolo was dead, Kadocheki was running trying to get us out of their running from someone armed with an AK-47. He was trying to get us to safety. Away from the violence. Away from everything.

Then the house started burning down. The scene flashed so quickly. I was now standing over the dead bodies of my friends. Ediz was shot dead, dying with a smile, like he had promised us he would.

I couldn't help but cry. Make it stop. Make it stop, make it stop. I didn't want anyone to die.

A nuclear weapon went off and I woke up.

My vision cleared instantly as I found myself in a hospital room. Where was I? I remembered a brief flash of light as the nuclear bomb went off. That meant I was still in France. But the bigger question was how I survived. I was a kilometre away from the middle of the blast at the very least. How am I not dead? A blast of those proportions should have fractured my skeleton and burnt my entire skin from the force killing me. Even if that hadn't the radiation alone would have crippled me. No matter how much training you have a mercenary is still a human. He can be killed.

Trying to move my fingers and toes, crippling jolts of pain stream through my body. I can literally feel the burns now. I attempt to move my body but fail to do so again. The pain stops me. It seems that even breathing is difficult.

I can literally feel shards of glass pierced my lungs as I attempt to breath in and unholy fire when I try to breathe out. Like I said, not the best situation. I can't even move my body meaning that my nerves have been completely fried from the heat at the moment.

Even so I can get a good glance and my body through the reflection of the metal lights and the screen. Even if the details are non-existent I can tell three things. My body is a charcoal colour at the moment. The other thing I notice and feel is the lack of muscle I have at the moment. The large amount of lean, strong and compact muscle is gone. I'm literally a thin skeleton with swelled, black skin.

Finally I noticed that I was surrounded by dozens of tubes connected to my body bringing what seemed to be nutrients and painkillers. A few more seemed to be taking away waste. I wouldn't know since I can't get a good glance at myself in the sorry state I am in.

Once again I have to ask how am I alive?

Before I could answer that question I winced, from the slight shaking of the bed. Even a little movement seems to cause terrific amounts of pain for me.

The tapping of heels signals the entrance of female personnel. I concentrate, for the first time, on the sounds around me. What I receive is a flood of movement that assaults my ears nearly causing me to cry out in pain if I could. Instead all I do is whimper. Fuck this is just the beginning of a long torturous process. This is what happens from being near a nuclear bomb and for me it's probably about to get much worse.

I can feeling an oncoming fever and headache.

Nevertheless I've endured being shot, stabbed and beaten. Hearing through sensitive ears is still possible for me even with a rising headache and fever, albeit barely. I had to be careful. Any loud noise would destroy whatever recovery I've made. Once I again I have to ask, how did I survive?

The frantic shouts of doctors chorusing in French, the cries and moans of patients and the sombre, tearful sobs of many, many families reverberated through my skull. I immediately lose concentration.

So many people have died. Yes I've killed people. I've seen people die in large numbers. Even so I've never seen them die in the thousands, heard their screams and cries as they lost hope. For the first time I cursed my sensitive hearing. The very hearing I just recovered. I lose all concentration and am rewarded with the comfortable silence.

Never before have had I felt so pleased. Even if my skin burns, I can't move, by body is in pain and my senses are non-existent, I couldn't have been happier. I didn't want to hear the screams of people as they died. Not yet. I wasn't ready for this. Whenever I killed someone in the past I always made it quick. Bullets, knives and fast reacting poisons were what I had always used.

I never used anything that would torture my victim unless it was completely necessary. Unless there was no choice. It was small mercy I could give them but it was enough. In this dog eat dog world that was the best anyone could expect from me.

I feel movement around the corner. I'm not alone. Taking a deep breath I steady myself. Should I make my presence known and risk the wrath of an unknown opponent. Or should I make my presence known in hopes of gaining some information, an unknown ally or what not.

On the other hand the more common possibility is that the person is another hospital patient.

It was a decision I had to make.

I grunted. It was the most I could do with most of my muscles the way they were at the moment.

Immediately the person woke up. I could immediately tell from that they were the only one awake at the moment. I took one sniff at the air, taking in my surroundings. Immediately I recognized the smell of burnt flesh. There seemed to be two people dead in this room. The situation must be horrible if the staff can't find the time to actually dispose of the bodies. There might be more people in the room but at the moment I couldn't tell. All I knew was the person was the only one awake.

The slight limp form of a girl came into my field of vision.

If I were a normal boy, I would have considered her cute. Her Dark blue eyes greeted me expectantly with hope before it disappeared in a cloud of despair. Her silvery blonde hair was ruffled and unkempt at the moment. Her skin was as pale as marble accepts for botches of first degree burns. Judging from her facial expression I would guess that she was around eleven maybe twelve. At the moment she seemed to be wearing a hospital gown and that only added to her current state. All in all she looked … miserable.

"Bonjour?" she asked me in French.

Deciding to return to the favour I answered back in French, "Hello. Can you tell me where I am?"

"Tu as dans la hospital," she replied or simply, "You are in the hospital."

"Where are we exactly?" I asked, "I don't remember being picked up.

The girl simply shrugged morosely before stating ,"I don't know. All I heard was hearing the staff barge in and strap you into your bed before leaving. They seemed very busy and I was … preoccupied."

I notice the tear lines on your face and decided to investigate. Why was she here anyways? Unlike the rest of the people, from what I could judge, Fleur didn't seem incredibly injured. Perhaps there was more to the story.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you Miss …" I cut off having not learnt the name of the girl.

"Fleur Delacour," she introduced before sitting back on her bed. I could feel it squeaking from the pressure before she finished,

"She's in a better place"

"I'm sorry about your sister Fleur,"

"It's okay. Gabrielle always wanted to be an angel. Now she is," sobbed Fleur obviously remembering something. It was certainly a happy moment with her sister before she died. I allowed her to grieve a little before I answered

"I just want to say … I understand how you feel at the moment"

At that she looked up. Her eyes turned bloodshot. For a moment I believed that her skin turned reptilian. Briefly she glared at me with utmost hate before walking back to my bed.

"Really," she whispered quietly so that only I could hear, "Really"

She continued sarcastically. We were now nose to nose. I could see my reflection in her Dark blue eyes as she stared down on me.

"Really? What do you know about Gabrielle. You don't even know me. You don't even know what I've lost. A sister. That's what you idiot. That's what. What do you know. What do you know about losing someone. What do you know about loss!" she screamed at me before crying her eyes out.

I just lay there contemplating what she had said.

What did I know about loss? Did I really want to know about that? I know what sacrifice means having given up my childhood to fulfil Kadokechi's dreams. It was all I had. It was all my brothers had. We knew what we were getting into. We knew that we sacrificing each other for the dream of a man who technically abused us. But what else did we have? Each one of us had seen Humanity at its worse and Kadokechi was nowhere near that.

But what did I know about loss? Loss was a choice made for me. Like the choice fate made when I was kidnapped. Like the fate's choice to leave me at the Dursleys. But now with Lepoplo's death I can't help but feel … empty. It's like a part of me is missing somewhere out there in the world and I can't find it. I can reach it. It's just drifting. So what did I know about loss. I just got my first, bitter taste of it today.

"Because I lost my brother today as well. That is if it is still today," I whispered

Fleur straightened up and face paling as if she had been slapped. Her expression of raw hatred vanished now replaced with a look of regret and shame. At least that's what I thought it was as she quickly hugged me.

"I'm sorry," she cried holding me tightly. Her tails dug into my flesh. I felt like screaming in pain. The monitors flared and the tubes connected to me swung for an instant before steading themselves.

It hurt a lot.

"Fleur," I pleaded. The girl ignored me as she continued to cry her eyes out. I could literally see the gears working in her mind. But I needed to get her off my body. It was becoming really painful.

"Fleur!" I yelled not getting much attention before I roared, "Fleur GET OFF ME!"

That immediately got her out of her depression. At the very least she let go of my body before crying her eyes out and returning to her bed.

Her sobs could be heard the entire night.

I lay there for a good portion of the night simply listening to the slow patter of the black murky rain and footsteps of the hospital staff. It was better than nothing. And I was willing to take anything to distract me from my feeling of … loss.

**(Meanwhile on a more cellular Level)**

The cells in Harry's body had been abused greatly from the blast. Many organs had barely survived. What he didn't know was a portion of is lung had been completely destroyed; his bones shattered and his muscles barely function. At the beginning of the explosion location of his eyes were merely holes in his skull. But slowly over the course of the night and with the proper nutrients, his body began to heal. It was slow but there was progress that would increase exponentially in the next few days as his muscles stitched themselves back together, nerve endings replicated and last but not least his bones began a steady process of healing into something much, much stronger.

Even if it had caused him great pain the nuclear blast had been a blessing in disguise. They didn't just make him physically stronger. The allowed the drugs he had taken to increase their effects on his body.

**Author's Note: Don't worry everything will work out in the end. But I do have to warn you. There are no fairy tale and prince charming.**


	10. Chapter 8: The world Keeps Spinning

**Author's Note: Thank you everyone for reviewing my story. Especially WolfKing57 who continuously participates and takes the time to write a review. To Solasgen yes that is what I'm hoping for. There isn't enough Gritty stories in this archive so I'm adding one.**

**At the moment Harry's Recovery time is placed at around 4 days.**

**Also I've added a new poll. I believe that I've been focusing too much on Harry lately and would greatly appreciate if people could take the time to vote for the other characters in hopes of them seeing some screen time.**

**None of these events represent any of my political views nor do I wish to antagonize any of the countries mention. This is based in a fictional universe which is just that. Fictional. I have merely created them for the entertainment of the people reading this story. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 8: The World keeps Spinning.**

I took a sip of the French coffee before putting my cup back on the tray. Every good food in my opinion as I continued to read the newspaper. It might seems out of the ordinary for a seven year old but not a completely unexpected move in my opinion. Many other kids would probably reading the newspaper too, if only to read the list of dead people.

I read the Le Monde quietly moving my arm as little as possible while still moving the page. The Le Monde in my opinion was an excellent source of non heavily biased general information. Politically it was on the left wing of French politics but not completely in the that field. In other words it provided an excellent source of information as it more or less represented the general view of the French people who wished for change or to understand the world around them without completely being immersed in a poltical storm.

I have a feeling that the Newspaper would be very popular soon. But that doesn't matter. At the moment I turned the newspaper hoping to find some information of actual use. I learned that my brothers were still alive at the moment. Most however we still in intensive, if slightly sub-standard, care. I couldn't blame the staff though. They had to take care of their own people first and foreignors that weren't of high priority were an afterthought.

Only Guiche seemed to actually be walking around the hospital looking at our brothers through their sealed rooms. Guiche got off lucky being around two kilometres from the center of the blast. He also seemed to have enough common sense to get out of there. It was why he only had a few cuts and wounds, a cracked rib from falling debris and a first degree burn from an exploding car. I would chide him for nearly blowing out cover today but he needed the space.

This was not part of our job description. Quietly I continued to read the newspaper taking a bite out of my lettuce. At the moment all six of us were stationed at the Claude University of Lyon where we are being treated by the staff. There is nearly 10,000 people who are here at the moment. I would have to thank Kadokechi for sending us to a hospital. The clinics in France, while having the best health care in the world, couldn't handle a crisis of such proportions. Non-critical patients were stationed there at the moment.

We were non-critical as me and Guiche had recovered. We would have probably been moved if it wasn't for that man's connections. I had to thank him again. While I didn't outwardly show it while we were still on the job, or at least as much as Guiche, I did care for my brothers. Being near them eased my conscience on their safety. So far everyone was recovering at a remarkable rate.

I would have to thank Kadokechi again for keeping out healing factor quiet. How to kept the staff silent, I had no idea. Probably through threats, bribery and loyalty. I didn't care, it didn't concern me at the moment. When I woke up this morning most of my rib-cage had been mended somewhat through a combination of drugs, medical care and my own amazing healing factor. The same could be said with my limbs. I could now use my arms to a certain extent and my legs no longer looked like sticks. All in all I could now move in a wheelchair.

However there was always bad news. I seemed to be suffering from several common symptoms of someone exposed to radiation; fever, headache, diarrhea and most of all vomiting. I couldn't keep my food down at all, meaning I had to both time my meals and eat twice as much in order to avoid several malnutrition problems. Heavens knew my body needed it. Combined with the fact that my recovery was directly related to the amount of nutrition I required nearly 15,000 calories a day. I literally spent my entire time eating in hopes of gaining a measly 150 grams a day. Not much considering the fact that I lost nearly 16 kilograms during the explosion. I needed to spend at least 100 days of eating like this to recover properly and still grow.

Even so it was something I got used to, eating constantly. But that wasn't the worst. What was the problem for me was bone Marrow death. Having been exposed to what was equal to 6 gray of radiation I was suffering bone Marrow death, a symptom where the person's stems cells and white blood cells are almost completely destroyed. Another thing was I was completely sterile now. No more kids. Not something I was surprised about. I was broke my cover by laughing when I listened to the nurses try and explain the "birds and the Bees" to me. Personally I didn't really care.

Why would I want kids anyway? What kind of father did I want to me anyway? Who would want me as a father anyway? I'm just a mercenary. It's a profession for men who want money sacrificing nearly anything else for material goods. Soldiers fight for honour, mercenaries fight for gold and in that way their more honest than the soldiers when it comes to their decisions. Mercenaries don't lie to you about how it was necessary to kill someone, that they had no choice or that it was self-defence. When you kill someone you shouldn't regret it. If you did then than you shouldn't kill at all.

If so why did people come back and fight for a country that only gave them peripheral rewards like a small gold medal only worth 4,000 US dollars. What was the point of that anyway? If you wanted to be successful in my world you either kill or be killed. There is no room for regrets in my opinion. If you did regret killing then leaving the professions that involved death.

10,000 years ago conflict was inevitable. When we sat in caves and lit fires males almost always had to kill animals and other humans. It was what made the male physically and psychologically adept for killing. In past few years I think we've forgotten that. Killing is just a natural part of life. So is vengeance. It's why I laugh at vegetarians, humanitarians and pacifists.

Revenge will happen. You can't stop what is natural. It's like holding back a river alone. It can't be done. So why do people falsely believe that it can?

_Because they hope._

Hope is a futile and dangerous thing. It is something that is not based on logics and facts. It something that mercenaries have discarded when they enter this profession. One way or another you will die. There is no getting around it. You will die. We don't go seeking death but we do accept that death will come for us one day in any form. We might fight but in the end there is no stopping the inevitable.

Great now I'm getting sentimental. I shake my head before reading the newspaper for any other world events. Most notably I look at the section that describes any wars that are going on. Being in France, a somewhat free country which might join the soviet Union, if for safety and close to many fronts the citizens have access to nearly unlimited amounts of information.

Fortunately not many people know how to use it or else there would be more mercenaries.

I scan the wars that are currently occurring. The Croatian War for Independence, the Gulf War and much to my surprise the Turkish War. It seemed that the Soviet Union was being ambitious enough to wrestle control of Turkey.

The conflict had been going on for nearly a decade now. Ever since Reagan had been assassinated the Turkish people finally accepted that the Americans weren't invincible. The union took this as incentive to convince the Turkish government to join Soviet Union. At first there were very people who wished to join. However over the next few years the number of supporters grew until finally last year a civil war erupted between the Pro-Communist and Pro-Democrats.

At first the Pro-Communist were low in numbers, military equipment and support. However over the past few months their efforts have become more organized, armed and effective. It seemed that the Russians were starting to grow impatient. This world was going up in flames in my opinion. The nuke just pulled the pin on the grenade. The Soviets obviously decided they couldn't wait any longer and decided to help out the Turkish supporters sending nearly 90,000 of their troops.

What surprised me however were the weapon design of the guns they were using. Iranian design. It seemed the Iran finally gave in and decided to cooperate with the Soviet Union. I turned back a few pages a read an article describing how the leaders of the two governments had come to a wonderful agreement when discussing trade.

Couldn't say I blame them. Iran was always a hot-spot. Being a neutral state at the moment it was under increasing pressure from the Soviets to join or else be invaded. It didn't help that Afghanistan was now under the Union's rule after kicking out the Mujahedeen. Faced with such prospect on fighting on from two fronts if the soviets decided to invade, The Iranians must have given in.

After all on the western seaboard you have fighting in Iraq, a Union ally, against several other Middle Eastern countries. America had withdrawn immediately after they learned that Iraq was now an official part of the Soviet Union. Of course they used "tactical" withdrawal. They obviously didn't want to antagonize the Soviet Union after Vietnam. The other Middle Eastern countries didn't seem to get the message and were being pushed back losing a large amount of territory without American support.

On the Eastern Sea Board you have both the Indian Republics and Afghanistan. Iran was now in a pincer movement where they were now completely screwed if they did join. Not joining would literally cause a trade blockade that they would be powerless to stop and send the country spiralling into poverty.

Help wouldn't arrive in time, as the Americans were still bitter and reluctant after their defeat in Vietnam and the Soviet Union with 335 million people had the manpower to invade Iran completely. And from experience everyone was a threat. Miraculously Iran made a compromise from what I could gather, reading between the lines. They would provide excellent quality arms and equipment, which they were known for, at cheaper prices to the Reds in exchange for the Union staying out of their country.

Can't say that I blame them and it is a good move. Staying neutral while keeping a superpower at bay. It wouldn't stay like that for. The world was being divided into two separate camps which were growing larger every year.

I groaned. This world was a button press away from being screwed. On the other hand I now knew that I could easily find work in Tehran now.

"You've been reading the newspapers a lot?" questioned Fleur.

I looked at my now permanent roommate. At the moment we were the only two people in here. Everyone else that came here died. As of the moment we the only 2 out of 12 people to survive the first 24 hours. As a result the staff had decided to move us to something smaller certain that we would survive the ordeal.

I didn't like it for one reason. I had to put up with Fleur and her family constantly talking throughout the day. In fact it got so bad that staff had recommended that they leave at meal times just so that we could eat in peace. Well I could eat in peace. Fleur didn't seem to mind the company

"I like to read," curtly replied before returning to my newspaper. The Koreas were fighting again. Why am I not surprised?

"But that's all you do. Eat, read and sleep," she asked curiously. Not that I could blame her. So far in the past few days all I did was eat hoping to regain my weight.

"So do you have a problem with that," I hissed angry at here for interrupting me. I glance up at the clock. I still have to put up with here for another half hour. Dammit!

"Impec! I try to be nice and you brush me off," she shouted before frowned before turning to her magazine.

I didn't want to admit but there was another reason why I disliked Fleur. She represented everything I didn't have. Money, power and most of all a family. Sure the Birds of Prey and Kadokechi's gang counted but they we were hired guns. Not true family. Then there was the fact that we could get killed any time.

"Well if you didn't annoy me, this wouldn't be the case," I growled softly ", Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Like what?" She questioned looking up from her magazine. Finally I took a good look at her.

Her hair had been maintained to become straight and Fleur seemed less tearful. Her burns seemed to have disappeared from the ointment her mother had brought. A pretty woman in my opinion. She was also wearing a new dress that her father had brought. Nevertheless I noticed that her eyes were still incredible red. _Probably still mourning her sister in private instead of public. Good, I should play along if I don't want to deal with her crying. This might be good practice when my other brothers wake up._

I needed the experience with people who were in grief. My five brothers were probably going to be like that. It was something I didn't want to deal with but I had to.

"The cold war. Personally I find it very idiotic," I stated flipping through the newspapers.

"It's like having two people holding each other at gunpoint waiting for the other to shoot. Eventually someone will," I stated.

Fleur snorted at my answer.

"You sound like my father."

"Really. Well I would like to meet him sometime. He seems like an interesting man."

That was a blatant lie. I wouldn't want to meet someone like that unless was planning on hiring me. Pacifists tended to have a way of cutting down the mercenary share of blood work.

Fleur didn't seem to understand my situation but if she did there was no outward response, "You'll like him. He's very nice and the best dad ever. But he's always busy. We haven't seen him that much in the past few months ever since he became a senator."

I had been casually listening to Fleur. It was typical behaviour for the children of important figures. The parents didn't have time to spend with their children thus being unable to know them. The children grew to resent their parents. It was a vicious cycle that more often than not grew as the family got richer and more prominent. Normally I would nod and give her my condolences but what said surprised me.

Grabbing her hand I reassured, "You can't change the way the world works. Your father's a busy man. From the way you talk about him, he's trying to make it a better place."

Fleur perked up at this. Good I'm on the right track.

"But just because he's busy today doesn't mean he will be tomorrow. The future isn't set in stone. You might not seem him much tomorrow, next month or next year but he's your father. I'm pretty sure he loves you just as much as you love him."

Fleur gives me a soft smile at that answer.

"You are very wise for a boy your age …" she replies before drawing off, "I don't even know your name?"

"And you never will," I chuckled anomiously. Even as she's smiling I notice how much pain she's in. For some reason I wanted to hug her. Hold her. Wait what am I thinking? I don't hug people I've just met. In fact I don't reassure people like I just did. What the hell is wrong with me today?

"Oh come on! I gave you mine," she pouts.

I couldn't help but laugh at the way she was acting. She growls at my action before laughing along as well. Just like Remo whenever he didn't get something. In fact she was acting like us … before everything.

For a moment my smile flickers and my face masks into one filled with despair. Fleur picks up on this and stops laughing. Pity, I really liked it.

"You really miss him?" she asks keeping her distance. Hoping against a repeat of what happened yesterday

"Just as much as you miss her?" I reply softly. I feel like crying now. Slowly I urge dies down no. No need to cry now. I can do that in the bathroom … where no one is around. Eventually silence descends over us, the pungent smell of corpses still fresh in our minds.

"What do you think is for dinner?" I ask hoping to change the subject. Fleur decides to play along.

For the next half hour we just talk as two children from two different worlds about French culture. Just like all children we laughed and smiled. It was a tiny beacon of joy in a hospital of sorrow and hopelessness but it was enough for me.

Eventually her parents returned to look after her and I returned to my newspaper. Her mother flashed me a strange smile which I returned.

Years later I would look back at the memory and smile glad that fate gave me a chance and I welcomed it. I would also understand why her mother had smiled at me knowingly.

**Author's Note: I hope you guys like the chapters.**

**So READ and REVIEW!**

**Don't forget to vote as well.**


	11. Chapter 9: Dealing with Grief

**Author's Note: Thank you everyone for reviewing my story so far. Especially Wolfking57. Thank for taking the time out of your lives to write about how you feel. I appreciate it.**

**Once again I will explain a few things to my readers for the last time. The events that occur in these stories in these countries are fictional. I hold no bias or prejudice to any country or fraction that is portrayed negatively.**

**Any language other than English will be in Italics or told to the reader beforehand whether it is in the beginning of the chapter or when they are speaking.**

**Last but not least I hope you people vote for several of the minor characters that may or may not appear.**

**So here's the chapter ladies and Gentlemen**

**READ and REVIEW**

**Chapter 9: Dealing With Grief**

It had been three days since I arrived at the hospital and in that time my bones and most of my organs were completely healed. Nevertheless I suffered from the effects of radiation on a much lesser scale. The symptoms would probably plague for the rest of my life. I can deal with that. I can deal with the bile rising into my throat as I struggle not to vomit and cry. That's Henrique's job.

We had all healed ourselves up quite well. Most of us were now walking although Ediz was still in a wheel chair as a piece of rubble had smashed into his back. Technically he should be able to walk for the rest of his life.

However that didn't mean that many of us didn't have scares. Especially me. I stared at my bony fingertips. All the skin on my fingers was burnt off. The bone was charred black. Even with the fake skin that was implement into my body people could still see the black skin.

In the future I'll have to take a lot of painkillers and vomit pills to prevent myself from constantly throwing up my food. Then there was the fact that number of white blood cells in my body was completely discriminated. It would take years to bring them back to the standard of a normal human.

I felt frustrated. All the hard work of perfecting my body and mind down the drain. A lesser man and most athletes would be crying now, knowing that their futures were probably ruined. There was always someone in a state of extreme depression in this hospital.

No the reason why I'm struggling to not cry was the letter.

I stare at the last letter Leopolo gave me before he died. He seemed to always keep a stack of them. One for every mission he went to. I look down on the last and nearly burst into tears.

_Dear Harry_

_ If your reading this letter than that means that I'm dead. That's okay. This thing is expected in our lives. We're killers whether we like it or not. God's probably sending me to hell for killing all those people. But I just can't find it in me to regret it. _

I couldn't help but agree with him. Biting my lip I read on.

_ We're killers but that's what we do. I just can't see what's so wrong about killing each other. We're all animals and animals kill each other for many things. What makes humans so different?_

I felt a rush of happiness pour through me. Just like Leopolo I didn't believe in religion. Religious people were hypocrites hiding behind their actions with lies that their imaginary friends were the best. I didn't believe in god, an all seeing person of wisdom. To believe that there was a god was to believe in perfection and there is no such thing as perfection.

_ Anyways, if you're reading this right now then that means that you're probably blaming yourself. Don't. Not for my sake. Not for everyone else. We knew this thing would happen eventually. It's part of dealing a business of death. We need you to stay strong and look after everyone, I need you beyond the grave and Kadokechi needs you to hold everyone together. Can you do that Harry knowing that I'm gone for good? Can you for my sakes?_

I'll try Leopolo. I'll try. But I don't' know how I can deal with this. Something wet runs down my cheeks. Just the memories we shared with each other; walking through a desert, hunting rabbits and catching tadpoles and snakes. Those were the times.

_ I hope you can. The world needs more people like you. People who care for their families. I'm pretty sure that my parents never did. So stay strong. _

We all came from abusive backgrounds. Leopolo much more than the rest of us. His family abused him greatly and all the authorities did was watch. For him working for Kadokechi was a blessing. He was free to do what he wanted. He was free from the order of society imposing his own rules. He was free in life as he is in death. That's why I'm happy for him. It still doesn't make it any better that he's gone.

_ Sincerely Your brother Leopolo_

_ P.S. Take care of Everyone. Their all cry-babies._

I couldn't help but cry harder at that. Trust Leopolo to say something like that. Give me the responsibility because I can take it. But then again we are cry babies. I'm just the one least prone to be crying in the middle of the night and the first one to stop.

_P.P.S. I know your one as well._

Now I don't know whether to be frustrated that he's dead, laugh at his joke or cry. He always had a good sense of humour. Now he's gone. And I'm going to miss him.

The ceremony is tomorrow. Every official in Europe and a good portion of the world is going to be there to honour the dead. The politicians will be there to look good and pretend to be miserable. Families will be crying and the French will definitely be mourning. I'm pretty sure they'll make a holiday of this. To remember all those that died.

I can't help but chuckle. This is most like the first of many attacks. And people are mourning. Even so I can't help but find humour in this situation. Leopolo is gone.

I look at the bedside. Fleur's family left this morning. I don't know why she left so early or why she gave me the locket. It's just an average locket made from a piece of string and pretty stones she had found from around the area.

Flashback

"_You're my friend. If we ever meet again –"_

_I had cut her off._

"_We'll never see each other again Fleur. I'm leaving to Spain tomorrow and you're going home. We'll be countries away."_

_Fleur bit her lip. Pulling out a necklace._

"_Even so here's a necklace."_

"_Like hell I'm wearing that!"_

_Flashback_

I couldn't help but smile at my immature actions. Yes I was no wearing it but I was definitely going to discard the necklace when I was sure I didn't need it. Yet somehow I couldn't help but look at the necklace. Would I ever truly throw this thing out? I rub my hands over the rough stones. Probably not.

Its significance is too much. It represents everything I've done with here for the past few days. Make origami, walk around the hospital, and steal food from each other. All kinds of childish activities. But I wasn't a child anymore. Once I leave this hospital I'm never going to be able to act like a child around anyone.

It was too painful for both me and my brothers. We lost one of our own as children. France had too many painful memories for us.

Flash Back

"_Are you sure you don't want to stay longer? I mean you do need to recover," questioned Jingo as he helped me walk down the hall._

_My muscles were incredibly weak and I needed the exercise._

"_I'm sure. We're all sure. France has too many painful memories for us. I can't promise that we won't ever come back to Europe jingo," I explain hoping he understood._

_I look back at him. Jingo is just nodding._

"_I understand. Kadokechi might be annoyed but he won't kick up a fuss."_

_I feel a pang of guilt. What was I doing for Kadokechi? I was ruining him just because I couldn't handle a little pain. I was running away from the dreams of the man who practically raised us._

"_We just need … time to heal. I'm pretty sure that working in Europe won't be happen … for another year. I'm sorry," I apologised trying to walk back to my room with my crutches._

_I didn't want to be a liability to Kadokechi._

_Jingo only nodded at my answer before walking away._

Flashback ends

At the end of the day the day we took what was left of Leopolo's things and buried them. Not that there was much left. In this case it was just a small metal box filled with all the letters, photos and dreams of Leopolo along with his favourite knife.

It lay in the middle of the courtyard of the hospital. I looked at the tree. We had buried it underneath the small tree. We had all said a few words. Remo and Henrique had cried the entire time. Guiche had merely nodded at the scene before walking off. I had seen him get wasted in his room. How he got the alcohol I had no idea.

Personally I didn't know what to do now. Maybe go back to Sao Palme and work for Kadokechi and work for him for a few years before making a name of myself in Asia.

Maybe in a few years we would bury it up and give him a proper funeral for what was left of him. Jingo had said that it was important to honour the dead. It was what made our actions so significant. Because we knew the sacrifices and consequences of our actions.

I don't know what made me say it but I did.

"One day I will find a way to get you back Leopolo. Even if it means that I have to go to hell itself and fight Satan for your soul I will."

I knew that was impossible. How could I even pretend to give myself hope? There was no way into hell. If there was wouldn't people have already travelled through it? Even so I couldn't help but frown. We had done the impossible before, why stop now?

(In Seoul, South Korea)

The chess master simply watched the events unfold. The world was no on the edge. Politicians were being rash as ever. Military people were panicking around the globe. And when people panicked they made poor decisions. People like the chess master capitalized on their panic. Their fear. But that wasn't what he was after. No there was something more. The chess master froze an image of an olive skinned boy. Harry Potter.

The chess master smiled at the image.

What a fine specimen the boy was. At the age of 7 and he had the body any teenage boy would die for. His mind was brilliant, yet mouldable. His loyalties were to Kadokechi and the Birds of Prey. But that would change. That would change.

The chess master couldn't have the boy falling into the hands of the Illuminati or, god forbid, the Templars. No the boy had so much potential to rock the world to the core.

Looking at the screens once again the chess master chuckled with glee.

She was going to enjoy breaking the boy and building him into something that fit her needs. But there was more, always more. What the chess master had just done was more than that. That's what the dragon did. Plant seeds and cause ripples. Soon those seeds would grow into trees that would topple mountains and the ripples will be an unstoppable force.

After all, the dragon believed a stoic society was a sick society. This was a time of change and conspiracy. It is a time of progression and militarization. But it was more than just that. It was the calm before the storm. The chess master danced around the room gleefully.

Yes the end was coming soon.

Dark days approached over the horizon.

"The show's about to begin" laughed the chess master sinisterly as she put on her red lipstick

(Fleur POV)

The funeral for Gabrielle was very small. Only around 20 people showed up. Fleur looked at her mother and father who were crying at the sight of Gabrielle's casket being placed into the ground.

She took a long glance at the other people in the area. Many of them were family. Here Grandparents were here as well, mourning the lost of an infant. As she threw dirt onto the casket Fleur couldn't help but cry. Her sister had died at such a young age. Running into her father, Fleur couldn't help but sob.

Why did it have be her? At school she was always picked on by boys for dressing up when she didn't. Girls looked at her suspiciously and treated her differently for being rich. It would probably get worse over the years as her Veela abilities appeared through puberty.

The only consolation she used to have been Gabrielle. The little baby who didn't judge her and whose need was based on simpler things.

And now she was gone. Just like the many other victims of the nuclear blast. All 122, 341 of them and more every day.

Even so it would be years later that she would remember the words the boy in the hospital had promised her.

_Some things aren't set in stone. If there is a chance Gabrielle is alive I will find her and bring her back._

But Gabrielle wasn't alive. Not anymore. She was gone. And she will never come back.

**Author's Note: Once again I have trouble writing romances since they have to be taken into two perspectives; female and male. Both participants must have qualities to make the other attracted to them while at the same time being both realistic and secretive of several components of their character.**

**Thank you for reading though.**


	12. Chapter 10: Poisoned Rationality

**Author's Note: I first want to thank everyone for reviewing my story so far and voting. Especially to WolfKing57 and TxA Gunfighter. Thank you for taking the time to review my stories.**

**Don't forget to vote for my poll**

**I will not explain the conversations or disclaimers anymore in any shape or form. If you've read my story so far you know my style**

**Everything is this story takes place in a fictional, crapsack world. Anything related to real life events or people is coincidence, intended but not to slander the person or a desire to entertain my readers.**

**Chapter 10: Poisoned Rationality**

(In the Ural Mountains)

I stood there silently watching the patrol move through this area. Very impressive in my opinion. It is November at the moment. November the 6th to be exact. My mission involves watching the eight men at the moment as they take a break. I feel the vial in my pocket. The warm liquid seems incinerating that these temperatures. That is expected. I'm moving around these mountains in the middle of the winter, of course anything warm would be feel hot.

I glance at the men as they continue to rest through my sniper rifle. A Soviet model. Normally I would bring my Sako TRG but outside of Europe getting my hands on one is a lemon squeezer. They're very expensive and I can't trust shipping to not "misplace" my weapon, i.e. steal it, especially considering the fact that that I don't legally own.

Normally a job like this would require the entire team but it was our solo week. Every week everyone was on a mission whether it be as a group or solo. It went to show how well known we were despite being only seven-year olds. Anyways, one average we did around 50-60 missions a year. However most of the time the jobs required only a maximum of 3 people even though 1 would suffice. To not split expenses every other week each one of us would go on a solo mission. We did a group mission the following week. This week was a solo week. As a result I was doing this alone.

I wasn't worried too much. Something like this didn't seem that difficult. Even when I did a background check on my employer the mission didn't seem very difficult, just strange. I was supposed to plant a vial of toxic liquid into the food of these soldiers. Nothing that strange. Even so I came prepared. In my arms at the moment was a Dragunov SVD sniper rifle. Strapped to my waist was a PP-19 Bixon and right underneath my left armpit was the holder for a Makarov Pistol. All three firearms were of a Russian model. That's because home created weaponry were more accessible and cheaper. Underneath the other armpit was a combat knife.

While it might seem excessive I was just being careful. The payment was extremely good for this mission and if done right I won't have to fire a single bullet. At nearly $240,000 dollars the payment was very good. Especially when it was considered that I was taking out 8 random soldiers. But I was being cautious. If things went bad I would have to shoot my way out.

I watched the soldiers from a distance of around 400 meters. Too far away to be noticed immediately but close enough that any half-decent sniper can kill them. I would lose half the payment if they were killed through bullets or any other means. As a result I had to get close. I didn't like it. A bit risky in my opinion but hey I'm getting paid to do this.

The sniper rifle was nearly my size and somewhat difficult to carry. Even if said seven year old stood at 4 feet 4. I grunted a bit before shaking myself. I had faced worse conditions in Africa. It wasn't the firearms I was carrying that were making it difficult. It was the terrain. The unfamiliarity was unsettling. Back in Africa I was used to hot, dry and humid climates. I knew ways to kill a lion and a crocodile. I could easily set a trap for several monkeys and was resistant to hundreds of different kinds of poisons. Africa was what I was used to. I wasn't used to the cold however.

In the Ural Mountains the temperature in winter was fifteen degrees Celsius below zero. It was strange. Before the winter Olympics I had never touched snow. Now I was starting to get used to working in polar climates. For the past month or so I was getting used to the frost biting against my skin eating it away slowly. The air was so chilling for me that I had to wear five layers of clothes to get over the feeling.

Then environment was also different. There were hundreds of rivers and lakes that travelled into the forests below. The coniferous trees were also strange. I could never shake of the feeling of curiosity when I looked at their branches. It was so strange and different. The tree line in my area at the moment is 800 meters, providing me with plenty of cover.

I look back at my targets through my iron sights. I took a glance at my surroundings. The animals were also very different. There were grass snakes compared to the black mambas. Badgers instead of anteaters, bears instead of lions and elk instead of gazelle. I didn't mind the experience though. Perhaps I should come to this spot when I'm done and simply sight sees. That would be a good idea.

Slowly I return to my targets. It had taken me nearly four hours to find the patrol. I look at each individual head through my ghost ring, envisioning how they would act if I had to shoot them. But I don't. At the moment I am content to simply watch them. They decide to set up camp inside the forest. A few minutes later I could barely see two of them. Nevertheless I wait.

Striking now would only alert them. Placing my sniper rifle on the ledge I slowly creep to the camp.

(Meanwhile)

A strange creature observes the eight men. They dare trepass on her land. Filty muggles. She shall have to teach them a lesson. A wrinkled, humanoid figure glances at the eight men who are currently cooking some soup. She shall teach them, not to trepass.

Go away. Run away muggles or not. Your organs will make excellent additions to my set. Oh how wonderful fresh organs shall be for her potions.

The creatures stands up, exiting her hut and into the moonlight. At a glance it there is no doubt that she is not human. The chicken legs give it all away. Rags cover the old creature's face as she swiftly disappears into the forest. Her face gives the appearances of an old woman. With a hooked nose, pointed ears and pupil less eyes this creatures only resemblances humans in forms. Her two hands carry a spear and staff respectively.

Leaping across the treetops, the creatures shows more agility than any human. Her speed is inhumane. Finally the creature, the Baba Yaga, reaches her targets. Leering down at the sleepy men the Baba Yaga cannot wait to kill them with her spear. Oh how wonderful it shall be to eat human flesh once again. The Baba Yaga tightens her grip around the spear. In the place of fingernails, there are talons.

"What shall I boil today," murmured the Baby Yaga absentmindedly. Oh how shall she kill the men that dared trespass on her forest. It was because of humans did here family die. It was because of humans were the forests being destroyed. It was because of humans were the Yagas nearly extinct. She would greatly enjoy reaping her vengeance.

As she was completely immersed in her thoughts, the Baba Yaga didn't notice a young, olive skinned boy administer some medicine into the food. That was the weakness of the Yagas. While they were good at creative works practical application was their problems.

(Back to Our Protagoinst)

Narrowing in on my objective I clasp my hand on the tiny vial I was given. The poison had been delivered to me in the letter. Now I was going to have used it. Even so, adding poison to the food was going to be difficult. The men that weren't on guard were looking at the food longingly. I could smell the wonderful soup there were cooking as well. Taking a sniff in the air I had to fight a sigh.

They were cooking homemade vegetable soup. Sniffing again I easily interpreted the ingredients: Salt, boiled water, cabage, onion, potato, carrots, celery and sarukrate. Those ingredients could only mean one thing. They were cooking Shchi a nice hot soup. Apparently the patrol had gotten their hands on the ingredients as I was nearly certain that the army didn't have that in that in their military meals. My hypothesis is that they bought it from a nearby town.

Nevertheless it doesn't matter now. The men are currently distracted. They have no reason to be worried. This was apteral the middle of the Soviet Union and they were just simple patrol men. Who would want to attack them anyways? Judging from the way they are acting I can also guess that none of them have seen combat. Freshly graduated they laugh and sing as the soup boils. I take a deep breath. It's now or never.

The darkness provides me with much cover, allowing me to go unnoticed. I can see everything as clear as day. It's strange. Before I became a mercenary I had terrible vision. It was what my opponents in the fight club used to capitalize on. Now I can see the details of the leaves, the branches on the ground and see the cards the soldiers are playing with.

Everyone is bored. A foolish mistake that will cost them their lives. They're soldiers, act like it. Even the men who are supposed to be on guard are obviously bored. I easily sneak past the man, careful not to leave any deep imprints of my footsteps. One mistake and everyone's going to be on high alert. I'm probably going to have to shoot my way out then.

This is my first time facing against First-World soldiers and I can't say that I'm impressed. I used to believe that First World soldiers were tougher and smarter than their African counterparts, yet I wasn't any more wrong. In a way it made sense. First-World soldiers weren't used to conflict while the African soldiers tended to fight rebels, fellow soldiers and armed civilians. They were used to killing and were more alert because of the African environment.

Yet I couldn't help but feel that I am being watched, that there is something more here, something I'm missing. I take a quick observation of the surrounding area. Nothing. I return to my task

However I take advantage of their weakness. A silent assassin, leaves no trace that he was ever there. He leaves the world untouched. That's what I'm doing at the moment. I take footsteps directly toward the ground. When walking I lift my foot up, move it forward then bring it back down. This might seems robotic and slow but having done this for a year I'm used to it. Walking like this also means that I can be silent. Noise created by walking in such a manner is virtually non-existent. It's an excellent way to get close to my enemies.

Quietly I apply the vial of poison into the carrots. There are two containers of the carrots so applying the poison was a hit or miss thing. Internally I debate on which container I should put it in before deciding to place the nearly transparent liquid into the larger containers. The lid squeaks slightly as I open it but the men don't seem to notice.

I can hear snippets of their conversations from here,

"Royal flush, I win" "The threes are going to heaven"

Most of the conversation is just the rambling of drunks and gamblers. I ignore their conversation. Peeking over the log I look at them talking. No seems to have noticed me. Taking advantage of this situation I grab the vial. Administrating the liquid I seal the lid tight and disappear.

No one was any the wiser.

What I didn't know was that I didn't feed them a poison. I had fed them a biological weapon.

(One hour later)

Looking down from my hiding spot I couldn't help but grimace at the sight. What I had administrated was more than just a normal liquid. The crystal coloured liquid had turned black the moment it had come in contact with the carrots. The men had noticed the change but shrugged it off as the carrot going spoilt.

Obviously they were willing to eat it as four of them now lay dead at my feet. The other four are not far behind, simply throwing up or coughing up blood. Black spots cover their skins as they try to scream but they can't. Every time try even speak their throat bleeds from the inside. I can tell.

These were just the outward signs after initial intake. I don't know what the men look like on the inside but I am more than certain that it's not pretty. I observe the strongest survivor from the a distance with my sniper rifle. At 300 meters away I know that I can hit anyone them but I don't. I'm itching to pull the trigger but stop myself. I'll get paid more if I don't.

What is worrying me at the moment is the disease. Is it contagious? Will I die and miss my payment? Another thing that seems to bother me is why I have the feeling that I'm not alone. The reason why I was still here was because I made a habit of knowing what I got myself into. I needed to know that what I did worked. Now I do.

I stop. I'm being watched. There are signs that a person is being watched. Lack of background sound because animals have scurried away. Slight glint in the eye form light and more often than not the sounds of movement but no animal. I'm not alone. I scan the area for anyone.

With my excellent night-vision I can easily spot more than a dozen eyes staring at me. Most of them are small mammals such as rats or the occasional lynx. One set however continuous to glance at me or more importantly the group of men I've just killed.

I can't be too sure of what it is. Is the thing that is watching me another predator or another human being? If it is another human being why haven't I been attacked yet? Unless their waiting to kill me. But why wait to kill me when they could have done so when I was climbing. I was an exposed target for most firearms. Climbing is also difficult and I would have been tired, even if I was exceptional fit. Trying to dodge would have added the risk of falling. So why didn't the person kill?

The entire process takes a second but that is all I need. I pull the trigger of my sniper rifle. A round penetrates through the air soaring through the bush. The round hits its target in the center of the chest. A rustle of the leaves and a body falls to the floor. I fire again at the body. I can't be too sure. Seeing no movement I take the long way around.

Scanning the area for potential threats I see none and walk for few hundred meters at the tree line before going a 100 meters west. From there I walk directly to the body. What greets me is something I never expected.

A Baba Yaga. I thought they were just a fairy tale! A Slavic Myth. But glancing at the body I can't deny what I am seeing. The ears are too pointed, the legs are too large to be a chicken and most of all it doesn't fit the upper body form of a human.

Even if this was a mismatch limb experiment with a Soviet scientist the leg size would be impossible.

My world comes crashing down as I reach the conclusion. It can only mean thing. I have to discard all forms of rationality from here.

Magic does exist.

**Author's Note:**

**So Harry finally gets his first glance at the Magical world.**

**Thank you for reading and REVIEW!**


	13. Chapter 11: The Informant

**Author's Note: Thank you everyone for reviewing my story so far. Especially to TxA gunfighter and Wolfking57. I really appreciate the time you take out of your daily lives to simply write a review.**

**Once again I will state that anything that happens in this story is fictional and will not happen in real life. People of Authority that draw similarities to the characters is done for your amusement or is coincidence.**

**To all those who are interested I went back to the Introduction and changed it slightly.**

**By the way I hope you people enjoy my story and take the time to also vote on my profile. Thank you for reading this author's Note:**

**READ and REVIEW**

**Chapter 11: The Informant**

**(St. Petersburg, Soviet Union)**

_**(Note: Everyone is speaking in Cantonese)**_

Ediz was not an impatient person. Not usually and not unless something important was happening. Unfortunately something important was happening at the moment and none of them could sit still, except for Harry, who could for some reason. No the reason why he was frustrated at the moment was because he half-heartedly believed that their informant was taking his own sweet time.

Pacing around the room, Ediz looked at the clock. Half past 2. The informant should be here by now. Ediz decided to scan the room for any potential hazards and to get a good look at his brothers. Harry as usual was exceptional calm, especially now that his world has come crashing down. In fact the only sign that he was frustrated was the tapping of his fingernails against the wooden chair he was sitting on.

Remo was playing with his knife at the moment before looking to Guiche. Guiche seemed the most nervous out of all of them. The fact that he had taken out a cigar of all things went to show how nervous he was. All of them treated their bodies as temples. For anyone of them to intake anything remotely hazardous to their help spoke volumes about the situation.

Espen at the moment was looking nervously at his clock then back to his watch almost feverously. Taking out a small hammer he tapped the watch almost as if believing that by doing that it would go faster. Henrique on the other hand was lighting matches at random almost unwillingly watching it go out before tossing them over his back. A small pile of matches were now forming.

I gave him a cold stare before he stopped playing with them. Before I could give him a verbal chewing a knock was heard from the door. We all tensed before hearing our informant's voice.

"It's me, Uncle Po," said an old man. We all relaxed at that moment.

Uncle Po walked into the room scanning all of us before sitting down on the nearby couch.

"You were all being hasty. Seeing that all of you boys are here shows the surprise of the situation, does it not?" questioned Uncle Po before pulling out a folder.

I examined Uncle Po. He was our greatest informant. The man we got most of our information off of … for a price.

"Nothing is free in this world. We're paying you handsomely for information regarding magic like we said on the phone," I stated harshly.

I knew I shouldn't have said it like that so bluntly, but all of us were nervous. Well except Harry. He was never nervous.

Uncle Po stared at us. His small beady eyes met mine. It was then did I realize that I was being exceptionally hot-headed. That said I wasn't surprised. Being the youngest of eight brothers made you like that. As the runt of the litter, I had to make quick decisions just to get the basic needs. Usually it didn't end well for me back in Turkey but now it served me well. However we usually left long-term planning to a consensus among ourselves.

" I see," he drawled out slowly before opening the folder showing us images of several creatures of myth ", Very well I will give you boys a basic summary of what are magical beings and what you should be careful of in the future. Wizards, witches; the whole nine yards as the Americans say it."

He continued to pull out more paper from his suitcase and coat. In total I could easily say that there was nearly 600 pages worth of information in it. I glanced at Uncle Po. This was too much. He wouldn't have given us such large amounts of information for just 30,000. **götü yosun tutmak** or, to be very old in Turkish, in the business we were dealing with meant that a person had to be smart and secretive.

Uncle Po didn't reach the old age of 50 by being a cheery businessman. That was what seemed to be the man in front of us. His shedding air and thin body deceive onlookers that he was a frail, old man. His typical three piece grey shirt and grey shoes made strangers interpret that he was either a simple businessman or someone going to a party, maybe his own birthday. However every one of us knew better. Uncle Po might not seem it, but he was the Dragon Head of the Sun On Yee in Hong Kong. The fact that he rose to that position in less than 20 years of joining spoke volumes about his abilities. Make no mistake this man was ruthless and very, very dangerous.

But he also had eyes and ears everywhere. So long as we did a few favours for him here and there in Hong-Kong and the surrounding areas the man was more than happy to provide us with information on many targets. In fact Uncle Po's influence didn't just extend all the way into the cracks in the Jurisdiction and bureaucracy of Hong Kong. He had major influences in the major provinces of China such as Macau, Fujian, Guangxi, Hainan, Hunan and even in the country Taiwan. Rumours had it that Po had a hand in the creating Hong Kong Liberation from British Rule years earlier than it was possibly perceived. Not only that, he had power in the national government of China. In other words if there was anything happening in China or around its borders, he would know or at least hear whispers about it.

The man basically, controlled the entire Triad Organization although the other Dragon Heads wouldn't want to admit it. Once again it spoke volumes about Uncle Po. If he died or met some form of accident here, I guarantee anyone that China will invade the Soviet Union to avenge him or at least cut-offs all ties with the Union. After all he was a wealthy businessman who was a donator to many charities, orphanages and veteran homes. Something bad happens to him and the whole world is screwed.

That was the brilliance about Uncle Po though, the fact that he could have a triple life. One where he is the ruthless Dragon head of the Sun On Yee, a decent businessman and shareholder of several of China's major industries and maintain an innocent persona at home. I had to respect the old man for that. It was also why I was careful around him.

"What aren't you telling us?" I eventually asked suspiciously.

Uncle Po seemed to ignore the question before looking at Guiche.

"Smoking at such a young age. Disgusting habit in my opinion. Better to quit now boy before you get addicted to those cancer sticks," he chuckled before turning to me, "Very well. The Birds of Prey deserve to know about this. What do you know about the Illuminati?"

Everyone stares at him. The question seems surreal. We're dealing with magic here, asking for his information but now he's talking about the Illuminati. What gives? I take a glance at everyone from the corner of my eye without turning my head. Guiche has dropped his cigar no, Harry's sitting upright and Remo's gaping at Uncle Po. I decide to ask.

"Aren't they a myth? A conspiracy? I mean-" I justify before being cut off by Uncle Po.

"You boys are in the business of death. You're basically a walking conspiracy itself. Then take into the fact that you've recently found out that magic does exist and your whole world seems bigger, much bigger than you ever imagined. Now imagine adding the Illuminati. Is that too hard to believe that they exist?" he questions rhetorically.

I look at Po, thoughtfully. Is it too much too-

"No," blurts out Remo, "Now that I think about it, they might exist. I've never given it much thought until now."

I look at him sharply for talking. I'm suppose be doing all the talking here. Uncle Po merely nods at Remo.

"Correct. The Illuminati has ancient roots like all secret organizations. Yes there are more," replied Uncle Po seeing my sceptic look, "The Illuminati can date back a few hundred years but the "modern" version of the Illuminati that you are dealing with dates back to the 1900s, under the richest man in the world at that time."

None of us answer knowing who it is. Anybody who knows their history that is.

"The Illuminati is based on a power struggle amongst its members. Each of them is as greedy as they are assumed. Most people join the Illuminati because of greed and fear. Those that don't join die. It's as simple as that. They majorly deal in the American area being capitalists."

We each take turns looking through the few pages Uncle Po gave us.

"I recommend you boys stay away from those kinds of people unless you wish to kill them or are certain they will pay you. The Illuminati does give out money so easily to outsiders," he states.

"What are the other secret societies?" I inquired.

I couldn't believe that we were talking about actual conspiracies and secret societies. Sure we were part of an underground world but the public knew we existed. They just chose not to deal with or accept us.

Uncle Po pushes us two more folders. One has a red cross on it, the other has a minimalistic dragon face.

"In the folder there will be a few pages explaining the two other societies. As the dragon head I am part one which is the dragon. Usually the most secretive of all societies is the Dragon. I'll get to that later. What I need to tell you people is the other major player. The Templars. Working in Europe the Templars are basically crusaders, purging anyone that they believe is unclean. I understand their reasons though."

Harry snatches the folder before opening, gleaming for information. In my opinion he was being very rash but then again I'm curious as well. It seems the world was more unbelievable than we thought.

"The Templars were found around 4,000 years ago dating all the way back to ancient Babylon. Their mission is simple. Purge anyone who they believe has a taint of darkness. You boy should understand this. The Templars are extremists. They will do anything to purge anything that they believe isn't natural. Most magical people and creatures fear them as they had only gotten stronger over the years. Whereas 4,000 years ago the Templars were a group of people hunting creatures, way over their heads, today they are the giants. They are the things creatures fear. In fact it is believed the Grim Reaper as you call it is simple the Night Bringer." Uncle Po explained.

"The Night Bringer?"

"Yes the Night Bringer. An ancient Templar 2,000 years ago whose deeds were so horrific that his image is officially tainted in the minds of all sentient beings on earth. The Templars are as old as they are powerful, but they are in a constant state of war with the Illuminati. Make yourselves comfortable children, I'm going to be talking for a long time. Like I said they are always in a state of war." he acknowledges.

Henrique seems to accept this fact and plops down on the floor looking at Po expectantly.

"Obviously because they have completely polar views," concludes Espen

"Yes they do. Millenniums of fighting have made the Templars strong. They burnt down London, started the first Persian Invasion of Greece and built the Roman Empire before it collapsed. The Templars are a dangerous enemy. One everyone should be wary of. On a regular basis the Templars deal with demons, heretics, Satan worshipers and witches, Yes I will get to that later. More information is in the file," assures Uncle Po.

"Do they have any weaknesses?" I ask. It's important to know your enemy.

"Not really. More or less they are a jack of all trades type, accepting anyone who decides to join their fate. The Vatican is where they are based at the moment. Intelligence however tells me that they will try to take over London in the near future turning it into another base of operations," Replied Uncle Po who is now rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"And the dragon?" asked Remo.

"The Dragon. Where do we begin?" Smiles Po before tossing a sheet at Espen..

"Read it and understand my boy," encourages Po.

"The Dragon are orchestrators of Chaos and change dating back nearly 80,000 years. How is that possible?" questions Espen looking up at Po.

"Simple. The dragon evolves. Structures change and countries may fall but it all the Dragon's doing. They've been based in the Eastern world since the beginning of the Ice Age watching the fall of many empires countless times. Read it later and you will understand, my flock. However times are changing and for the first time in history the Dragon finds its influence spreading across the world." Elaborated Po.

He seemed perfectly calm at the moment. In fact the situation itself seemed like an old man telling a story to young children. Well if the children weren't trained killers and the old man wasn't talking about conspiracies at the moment. Nevertheless we hung on to his every word.

"But you are incredibly secretive," concludes Harry.

"Exactly. We don't create Tsunamis or avalanches like our competition does. We simply create ripples. Make others do our dirty work. For example what can you say about the large amount of immigrants entering South Korea at the moment from North Korea."

At that we all look thoughtful. Harry however answers Uncle Po's question.

"You're creating ripples in the society and the world. From what I've gathered South Korea is letting the people into its country. Eventually the North Korean government it going to try and make it stop. Their actions can result in three things. A complete change in the North Korean government from Communism to democracy as people are leaving for a better life in the Democratic world."

Guiche picks up where Harry left off releasing what they mean, "Or North Korea declares war on South Korea as many South Koreans have started to pity North Koreans that are trying to escape their county just like West and East Germany. However there is a third possibility which is much more likely to happen. A civil war that tears North Korea apart like it's destroying Turkey."

The answer frustrates me, bringing up Turkey, but I can't help but agree with the possibility. Moments before I also realized,

"The aftershocks would be enormous. Either way the world gets involved in the affairs of the Koreas again. Tension rise between the two superpowers, arms manufacturing increases and employment of mercenaries …"

At that I trail off realizing the implication of the dragon.

"Increase my child. Mercenary employment increase. Either they get involved in a war in Korea or they provide security for the new government as a great deal of soldiers would likely be lost. Aid would come at incredibly amounts along with loan money to the winning side."

"So that's what you're orchestrating." I conclude before adding, "For now"

Uncle Po simply smiles at us, "For now. If you join the dragon, then there will definitely be a place for all six of you."

The way the boys concluded the ripples and aftereffects of their actions made Po smile internally. It really was a good idea to not simply kidnap these boys. If the dragon instead of following his suggestions, they would definitely be extremely low on manpower in a matter of weeks.

"What about wizards and witches? You know other magical people? You don't seem to be talking about them Dragon Head?"

"That's because most wizards can't fight their way out of a paper bag. Wizard-kind is either extinct or assimilated into what they call "muggle" in most parts of the world. This is due to the recent violent clashes between wizards and muggles in the 1970s. When Voldemort, a dark wizard explained in the file, rose to power so did many other minor dark lords, "dark" wizards as well. Unlike England however, the muggles retaliated, massacring wizards, especially in Asia, the Americas and certain parts of Europe," He explained.

"By the Illuminati, the Dragon and the Templars." I realized as it dawned on me.

"Exactly. However the fact that most of the wizarding government were incredibly isolated from each other along with having a low population to begin with meant two things. Magical people could be exterminated in large numbers and the most people would see it as is a simple terrorist incident. In less than a year the magical population was cut down by 60%," he continued.

He notices our horrified expression. Genocide. Yes we dealt with it on a regular basis. I could still remember the father that had died protecting his son from a warlord and all I could do was watch. I was undercover and saw it many times. It didn't make it any easier.

"Think about it boys. Normal humans kill each other in millions over simple political views. How far is it to believe that we wouldn't kill many wizards and witches because they couldn't be considered "human" and because they attacked us in the first place," he concluded.

Note helping Po. I have to steer this off topic. No I can't. I need answers and information on the world of magic … even if it does bring back bad memories.

"But wouldn't anyone notice this. The fact that everything is co-ordinated or that millions of people died in such a short time" I asked.

"Correction. Less than a million. The population of wizards in the beginning of the "war" was at the very most 800,000 individuals. Said individuals were very isolated and had a sparse population. Most of these attacks on muggles had a strike force of only a dozen members. The local law enforcement could easily take them down. The attacks were also random since the magical world had trouble coordinating their attacks," he stated.

Seeing our confused faces Po decided to elaborate.

"They used owls boys. Owls. Birds that at the very most could fly for 10 hours with letter to a recipient at 300 miles a day. Think about it. We could easily coordinate things faster with radios and the first computers. It wasn't hard to cover up all the deaths with accidents since they were usually made to look as such."

Harry decided to chip into conversation "So it wasn't really a war. More like a slaughter."

None of us wince at this though. Well those bastards had it coming then getting into a fight without preparing ahead of time.

Po simply nodded, "Correct. Normal humans easily eradicated most of the magical population and covered it up. The magicals didn't even learn they were being hunted until six months into the war. It was then did many of the decide to move to Europe and live out the rest of their lives in silence."

"What about normal children who developed magical abilities?" we asked. It made us nervous since were technically were children. If any one of us turned out to be magical, Europe might be the only place we could go.

Seeing our expression, Uncle Po's face softened.

"Normal magical children are rare. Only 1 in every 6,000 children develop "magical" abilities. However those that do are usually inducted into the secret societies and trained to refine their abilities, not usually make it grow stronger. The few who decide to turn down the offer usually meet unpleasant accidents. It's basically a gift raft join or die with a pretty bow tie on top."

"I see. So why should we join the dragon. We're getting off topic and we understand that you will keep your end of the bargain with the information seeing as you have given us so much."

Uncle Po simply slouched before offhandedly saying,

"What if I told you that we can help you find Leopolo"

"Leopolo's dead" blurts out Henrique. I cringe not liking where this was going. Leopolo's a sore subject none of us want to talk about. The German kid was our brother. Now he's gone.

"Not quite. At the moment I don't know who kidnapped Leopolo or where you can find him. But I can point you in the direction of someone who might." Po responds.

He then pulled out a letter.

"Here is an invitation to a wedding between a Yakuza and a Triad. At the moment nearly 2,000 people are attending. I'm responsible for the guest list."

No I understand where this is going. He's trying to help us. But what's in it for him?

"And some of these people might know where Leopolo is?"

Po looked at us.

"Perhaps. I can't guarantee that you will find a person who knows information but people are known to be careless when under the influence of good music, food and alcohol. I can however guarantee that you will make many connections to the underground world at this wedding."

I stared at the letter before nodding. Uncle Po followed the gesture before taking his hat and walking out. So that's what he's after. Po wants us to get strong. He wants his attack dogs trained, armed and well connected. Obviously these people at the party would have no trouble supplying the goods and services needed to make us tougher.

"Oh and you might want to get used to losing people, as harsh as it sounds. The world isn't nice." He lectures before walking to the door.

"We know that." I bark. How dare he talks about losing people? I don't care that he's the Dragon head or can kill us, no one talks about Leopolo like that.

"But that doesn't mean that you can't stop looking for the solution. The wedding is in 27 days. I expect all of you to dress well for the occasion," he reminds us.

I calm down. He's right. Indirectly he's telling us that there might still be hope. That we might still have a chance of finding Leopolo.

"Thank you Uncle Po."

"Just doing my job, boys. If you need anything just call"

With that Uncle Po left the hotel we were staying at.

**Author's Note:**

**I have to add. 58 reviews. That's amazing. None of my other stories have some many reviews. Thank you everyone for participating and I hope you review once again.**

**For those wondering how Uncle Po looks like type in "Sleeping dogs Uncle Po".**

**Hint:**

"**Can we go to a wedding without it turning into world War 3!"**


	14. Chapter 12: The wedding

**Author's Note: Thank you WolfKing57 for reviewing unlike some other people. Seriously, the number of reviews I'm getting took a nose dive here. What happened? Am I doing something wrong? If so tell me.**

**I do not own Harry Potter. If I did he would have killed Malfoy in the sixth book, voldemort in the Fourth and tons of death eaters in the fifth.**

**Any coincidence to the people and events that happened in this reality is either coincidence, like I said, or done for you enjoyment.**

**Remember:**

**Read and Review**

**Chapter 12: The Wedding**

**(Remo's Persepctive)**

Normally we stay at a two star hotel when doing a job. But this is a normal situation. We're not doing an assassination or typical mercenary work. This week, we're going to a wedding. Not just a normal wedding. A big one.

It was why we were currently staying at a good hotel instead of those 2 star ones we usually frequently visited. In order to save costs we usually stayed in the same country so that we could easily meet up and go back to our hotel room. While it was more dangerous we had learned to cover our tracks well by making false bookings and cancelling them at the last minute. Usually we payed a small fine since we made sure that we cancelled at least two days in advance.

For mercenaries, like us, money was everything. We weren't going to hand it out so freely. Even if we had nearly a million US dollars under our bank accounts individually, none of us were going to spend it. There was no guarantee that we wouldn't need the money to bribe officials or by rare items. Especially now that we discovered the magical world. Items of said world appeared on the black market. The only problem was the fact that access to those items to muggles was incredibly expensive.

We wouldn't buy some of the items unless we needed it. At the moment we didn't but it was good to have some contacts.

Today was December 1st. We had booked reservations to the hotel for the entire week as several of the other leaders of the underground world were staying for an extended period of time. While the Shibuya Excel Hotel Tokyu was a fairly expensive our stay was comfortable. Room service was timely, the food was excellent and the café we frequently met many powerful people at had excellent beverages. The stay at the hotel would cost us $3500 dollars all together as we there was three of us in each room.

Nevertheless if the connections we made here were as credible as we believe, none of us would ever go hungry, even if we weren't hurting for cash at the moment. Hunger … was something we dealt with for two weeks. During our training Kadokechi placed food right in front of us and had soldiers beat us up if we tried to reach for it. It was the only kind of food and water in the room we were in.

I shuddered at the memory. Guiche took a quick glance at me. I nodded back at him showing that everything was alright. I could still vividly remember that session in our training. It was meant to break us, make us mouldable soldiers. It pretty much backfired. The training exercise was meant to make us more compliant to Kadokechi's orders as some of us were … less accepting of him. Apparently Kadokechi got tired of waiting for us to comply on to him. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for what Kadokechi has done for us. It's just that his methods were a bit … extreme.

Leopolo was the cause of that. All he wanted was a drink of water and was beaten back by the handlers. It pissed me off. The fact that we were starving in a rocky room with our handlers watching us 24/7. The floor had just recently been built and third rate meaning that it crumbled easily. That's when Ediz attacked. He snapped. Two weeks of eating nothing but fish guts and a few drips of water made him desperate. It made him hungry, pissed but most of all it reminded him of all the suffering he faced from his brothers.

Leopolo and Ediz always seemed to have a good relationship. It was how they fooled the handlers. While Leopolo was reaching for the glass of water only to be beaten back, Ediz acted. He grabbed a piece of broken rock and curled his tiny fist around it. He then jumped on top of the handler and beat his face to a bloody pulp with it. In my opinion it was either very brave or very stupid. Maybe both, nevertheless it worked. The guy stopped beating up Leopolo then and tried to attack Ediz.

I don't remember what happened then. Most things are fuzzy but the important things were crystal clear. All I remembered was rushing the handlers with all the others attempting to get some form of savage revenge. Starvation was starting to get to me back then and I didn't think clearly. I did remember the important things.

I tackled the handler to the ground, kicking him in the groin. What followed was a massive beat down. There's a saying:

Desperation only attracts vultures.

And sometimes when the animals get tired of vultures pecking on their desperation … they bite back. In this case I did it … literally. I clearly remembered biting down on the man's cheek and ripping it off. I remembered swallowing his flesh, glad that my hunger was stated but most of all I didn't regret anything. I was starving and there wasn't enough food on the plate for all of us.

I also remembered Leopolo and Harry holding down the other handler as Ediz beat him to the ground. I watched for a few seconds before Ediz had enough and smashed his stone into the man's face, caving his skull in. Minutes later we realized what Kadokechi had done to us. He had turned us into killers. At our feet were two dead men who we killed in anger, revenge and desperation.

He turned us into killers and that is something I couldn't believe. I couldn't believe that I had killed a person back then. I didn't want to. But I did. It was then my new life began. I accepted who I was. I tool and hired gun for Kadokechi. There would be no other place I could go now, no other place that would accept me. What would my family say?

But I couldn't help but feel grateful for what Kadokechi had done for me, saving me from the crutches of slavery. It was something I later learned. The men that were sent to watch us were part of an organized criminal organization. Each one of them had pissed off someone big and given to Kadokechi to dispose of. However the mob wanted justice and make an example of them.

Most of all the mob also wanted me. My father had been responsible for kidnapping a rich, wealthy woman named Filippo. The kidnapping went bad when my parents learned that the woman had connections to less than savoury elements of the world. I could have been sold into slavery, kidnapped, tortured into a sex slave. But I wasn't. Because Kadokechi gave me a choice and made a gamble with a devil.

He made a bet with the mob. If he could turn us into killers in less than a month, the mob would get one free hit and I wouldn't be enslaved. I knew this because my first employer explained the situation to me. Of course he didn't put Kadokechi in such a positive light. Chuckling a little internally, I remember how it took both Henrique and Guiche from making me attack Kadokechi when I got home.

He told me the truth. It was painful to hear him talk about my parents, it was disappointing and most of all it was pathetic. How could they screw up something so easily? But most of all I was grateful. Grateful that Kadokechi had save me.

It's why I worked for him. He was my father. Not by blood but by fire. He didn't kick me down unless me could make me stand up taller. He would beat me unless he needed me to be stronger. Every time and every moment was to make me a better person or at least someone that had a better chance of surviving the dark days.

Now that I know about secret societies I can't help but be glad. I might survive the coming war between the superpowers, magical and non-magical but most of all the coming war between the big three.

Today was the 4th of December. The day of the wedding and most likely one where history was going to be made. The marridge between two people of different ecthincitties was uncommon to say the least. The fact that they came form two completely different families and rival organizations showed the importance of this situation. If things went well there would a good, short peace between the Yakuza and the Triads.

I read the profile of both the groom and the bride like the rest of us. A wedding of such proportions would be a major target. We were risking our lives at the moment by showing up. But we couldn't back out now. Ediz had already accepted the invitation. I couldn't disagree with Harry though. If there was a chance Leopolo was alive I was going to take it.

There was a lot of shuffling in the train at that moment. Tokyo is cramped to say the least. I could barely make out my brothers from the crowd. The fact that they stood a foot shorter than most of the people here didn't help the slightest.

The trip to the Peninsula Tokyo would take only half an hour at most. Japanese train systems were incredibly efficient. They had to be. Otherwise it would be like Dhaka; crowdy, pathetic, corrupt and inefficient.

Eventually we reached our destination.

Together we entered the five star hotel that it was being held at, showing our invitations. The clerk didn't like the fact that we were carrying guns. The fact that a group of seven year olds entering a hotel alone and unsupervised would be irritating. It would make any employee cringe with annoyance since they would be wondering who would be the irresponsible parent. I could sympathize with the clerk at the front desk who was arguing with Harry.

I really could. Most seven year olds were brats to say the least.

"No I will not give up my weapons and neither would my crew," shot back Ediz obviously getting annoyed. It was demonstrated in his flawed Japanese.

"I assure you Chīsana otokonoko," replied the receptionist mildly, "You're weapons will be returned to you at your departure. This is standard procedure."

I heard Guiche snort in the background. I silently agreed. This clerk must be doing this a lot seeing her added irriation.

"And it is my procedure to carry my weapons with me at all times," growled Ediz.

He was definitely getting pissed. The clerk wasn't buying it. Once again she wasn't relenting. It was admirable but I had to agree with Ediz. We never gave up our weapons because of our jobs. It was a mistake to relinquish arms and mistakes were more often than not fatal. For a moment it seemed as though Ediz was about to shout at the clerk right before a security walked in.

"Let them go. Our security can more than handle six armed ten year olds," stated the clerk looking at us suspiciously.

I sighed in relief not even snapping at him for getting our age wrong. Ediz calmed down as well before thanking the male security guard.

"_Mooshiwake__arimasen," replied the male security guard before departing_

The clerk gave us a scrowl before accepting our invitation.

Entering the dining hall the first thing I recognized was the sound. There was thousands, tens of thousands, of people here. Just how many came to the wedding. As if knowing my question Henrique whispered into my ear.

"20,000"

I could barely hear him from all the noise in the background. Still the number of people surprised me.

"Uncle Po sure has been busy," I stated. It was obvious. Giving and accepting heartfelt invitations to so many prominent people must have taking some time. I wasn't even sure if he did it alone either.

"Come on," tugged Harry pulling Guiche with him.

Taking our seats the six of us enjoyed the reception that was being held. It was the first time any of us had come to a wedding.

It was a Shinto kind of wedding. We had arrived half an hour early just as we had planned.

"So what's the plan?" I asked.

Leopolo had save my life nearly 10 times. I was dammed if I wasn't going to repay the favour.

"Nothing at the moment. Keep an eye on security though," whispered Harry.

Everyone except Ediz gave him a questioning look.

Ediz decided to explain ",The man was way to friendly with us at the counter. So the was the clerk. The fact that she asked us to give us our weapons shows that she was expecting something and that something is up. Most people wouldn't notice it but a mercenary always carries something on them. Photos, knives, smoke bombs whatever. Something is up here."

I eye both of them. So does Guiche who decides to speak up.

"Then how come no one else has noticed it or talked about it."

Ediz gave him a stare telling him to shut up which the French kid did.

"Because dumbass, these are gangsters. They're used to fighting civilians and rival gangsters. Most of them aren't even trained. If they were there would be more assault rifles here. None of these people are used to fighting soldiers on a full time basis. We are. That's why we can pick up these things. In our world there are two ways to die."

Guiche cut him off on his rant.

"Yeah I get it. Normal and abnormal."

Ediz continued to look at Guiche.

"How the fuck did you even survive Kadokechi's training?"

It was another thing I needed to tell you about Ediz. He liked to swear a lot. Make himself look big. That's because he was big. Of all of us Ediz was the most dangerous, the leader and he was the most paranoid.

"Because he's a snot nosed kid who can cook up sob stories on a minute to minute basis," piped up Henrique. Obviously he was trying to break up the tension before Ediz made a scene.

"And he's one cocky bastard," I added. Henrique winked at me before his face returned to it's stoic mask. Bastard now I have to talk to Ediz.

"Still keep an eye out on the staff and security. Just because this is a wedding doesn't mean it can't turn into a gunfight," reminded Ediz before looking at Guiche, "And no drinking."

Guiche winced ,"Okay. But for the record I hate you."

"Good." Answered Ediz.

I sighed. This was usually something that happened between the two. They hated each other. Getting up I decided I should take the initiative. You know get to know these people, have a plan to kill them if necessary and squeeze every last drop of information at the same time.

I easily got plenty of attention because of my silver hair. It was a side-effect for all of us from the radiation blast. I mingled at talked with the businessmen who treated me like a child, joked with the triads and discussed philosophy with the younger Yakuza. Even so I couldn't get anything out of them about Leopolo.

Slowly my hope was dwindling. This seemed like a waste of time in my opinion. I glanced at the clock. The speech would begin any moment now.

Eventually the others joined me.

"Anything?" questioned Ediz. He was all business today. His suit was tucked in tightly and he had sight scrowl to him. However given the fact that he was a seven year old and it didn't have much effect on most people unless they were about to die.

I counted 60 security guards and nearly 600 members of the catering staff.

Fuck this was a waste of time in my opinion. Normally I didn't swear but internally I was going to make an exception. Maybe Uncle Po had been pulling our legs today.

The Introduction speech began with the announcer describing the how the groom and bride came together. He went on about how this was a wonderful day of celebration

I didn't pay attention to him. Instead I continued to scan the catering staff. It was something we all were doing. Just then a waiter passed me. A strange smell entered my nose. Strangely familiar in my opinion. It was like something I had remembered a long time ago.

After the introduction speech finished the bride and groom entered. The groom bows to the Brides father who does so in return.

I don't care. At the moment I'm only paying partial attention to the ceremony. Most of my focus is on the staff. Something is off here.

After the exchange of sake cups, the Kanpai began.

I look down on the shoes of the staff. The long robes cover the shoes quite finely. In fact I didn't notice it at all as the clothes seemed to match the floor. Taking a quick peek over my shoulder and hear an audible click.

Safeties come off.

The catering staff pulled out pistols and started firing at the bride and groom first before moving on to the guests.

Even worse is the fact that the guards are gone. I was so focused on the staff that I didn't notice.

SHIT!

"Get Uncle Po out of here! Henrique follow Remo and Guiche!" shouted Harry taking command of the situation. I couldn't help but agree. Grabbing the man, me

Ediz on the other hand was shooting at the staff before turning over the table and turning it into cover.

**(Harry's POV)**

I know that I can deal with any man. Most men would be afraid at the moment. I've been in hundreds of gunfights in my short, exciting life. Fighting any other mercenary would go either way for said people. It was cockiness that caused defeat in most cases. But I'm not dealing with a human here or a wizard. In this case all my knowledge of fighting people goes out the door.

I'm fighting a demon now.

All my training. My hand to hand skill in Kyokushinkaikan Karate, Brazillian Jiu-Jitsu, Kung-fu and Muay thai and Gaidojuso goes down the drain. I'm facing someone here was a half wolf man. A werewolf. I'm fighting a werewolf at the moment, even if its not a full moon tonight.

"They're coming out of the walls" shouted Ediz over all the gunfire. At the moment we are the only two people fighting against an entire army. I bullet nearly pierces my rips. A 0.3 calibre weapon from what I can tell.

I don't let it distract me as I turn to the walls. Ediz is right. Things are coming out of the walls. Dead animated corpes. Body parts in all locations, blood spewing everywhere.

"I am the beginning and the end Raven," grins the Werewolf.

Cocky bastard. I fire my pistol knocking him back. I have to take Kadokechi for these new weapons.

"There's more!" shouted Ediz.

He's right. This doesn't look good. We're fighting what seems like an undead army in the middle of hotel. I just hope Remo, Henrique, Espen, Guiche and Po are alright. I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to them.

"Can't we even go to a wedding without it turning into world war 3!"

**Author's Note;**

**By the way I hope you people go to my forum the link is written below:**

myforums/The-Poarter/3224537/

**Next Chapter:**

"**Who's Funeral is this"**

"**I haven't decided y****et."**


	15. Chapter 13: Guns, Drugs and Werewolves

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you everyone for reviewing. I have also decided to change the number of guests from 20,000 to a more manageable 2,000.**

**Enjoy the story and please Read and Review**

**Chapter 13: Guns, drugs and werewolves**

**(Ediz POV)**

I wasn't having an easy time at the moment. So far we had been fighting corpses, undead giants and werewolves with guns.

Good news: Harry and I were currently armed as much as possible.

Bad news: We were outnumbered at least 200 to one against the supernatural. Yes, definitely not good odds.

If I had a bullet for every time this happened I would have one bullet. We never got into situations like this … ever.

"Wendigos," I whispered under my breath. Harry looked at me.

"People who have turned to cannibalism to survive," I shouted before firing two shoots at the Wendigos chasing us. I have to thank Kadokechi for making us these new pistols.

Each shot from the Majestic Pistol we were using at the moment sent every Wendigo flying back a few meters.

"So their just people!" shouted Harry running up the stairs.

I glared at Harry before following suit. We would have to start conversing about our future opponents if Harry didn't know a thing about Wendigos. Then again the information wasn't easy to find. I only got it because I decided to investigate more on the "dragon" we were joining.

Bolting the doors shut we ran up the floors and away from the gleeful laughter of the cannibalistic Wendigos.

"No. Wendigos are people who have sold their souls to for regeneration to a necromancer. They can be normal people or magicals. A Wendigo can't die either. So long as theirs a body to be found and the necromancer is alive, Wendigos can keep returning from the dead," I explained as we hurried up the stairs.

"But the thing is about Wendigos … that their cannibals," I stated slowly hoping Harry didn't overreact.

Thankfully he didn't since he was all business at the moment. It didn't however ease the worried look on his face.

"So we're going to get eaten. Great," remarked Harry sarcastically.

"I know," nodding to him, "But if we find the necromancer these guys should be easy pickings."

"In theory," snorted Harry.

Suddenly an explosion rocked the floors above us. Falling debris and red flames fell through the stairwell. Several chunks of the debris destroyed the stairs. It was than did I realize the gravity of the situation we were in.

Our only way out was the roof. Going back was suicide. What was stopping us from moving from our place was the black smoke we were inhaling. The fire seemed to be raging throughout the building. How did we not notice it in the first place. I chided myself for being so stupid and unobservant.

"Our only option now is to shoot our way out," I told Harry stating the obvious.

His eyes flashed in surprise before he grimly nodded. I could understand what Harry was thinking at the moment. He was regretting what was happening to him. He was regretting not doing many things. Of all of us Harry had the greatest dream. To raise a family in some town in Finland. He wanted to be a farmer after he retired from killing; he said that he didn't want sees us die.

But I knew better. I knew why he didn't want this.

Harry had hopes, dreams and ambitions. He wanted to see the world, travel and grow up. He wanted so many things.

Unlike me. I was the leader of our little band of mercenaries. I stayed because I had nowhere else to go. I hated my family with a passion and I would rather shoot myself than step foot in my blasted country. The very same country that was in the midst of a civil war. I couldn't do it.

But most of all I couldn't handle seeing my brothers die. Not even, Guiche. I was their big brother. The oldest person in the group. And I was going to protect them with my life. It's why I sent everyone away. I didn't want them to get caught in the crossfire of what would be a massacre. No matter how impractical and idiotic it was I thought, no I believed, that I could get out of here with only Harry.

I was wrong.

But I was dammed to lose him here. It was why big brothers were born first. To protect their siblings that came after. I wasn't going to lose mine.

"I'm getting you out of here!" I shouted at Harry shooting the glass of the door. I knew that it would do little to calm him down here, a place of certain death but at least he stopped sweating.

Both of us charged through the door and bolted to the lobby dodging falling wood and marble. It was blistering hot in here. Our skins had turned red from the heat and my mouth was watery. Crawling wasn't an option anymore. We had to sprint through the door if we wanted to get out of here alive. The hotel was burning to the ground. The heat was getting to us. I glanced at Harry who was running with me.

The two of us were just meters to the door. To freedom and away from a cruel death. However that was when our freedom was taken away so mercilessly.

The Wendigos were no longer gleefully laughing at us.

Instead they were screaming in pain. The fire that had been unleashed. What was once their pink, fleshy skin was burnt away to reveal nothing but black muscles. Blood vessels had popped from heat because the blood was evaporating. Any hair the Wendigos had was melted away. They were desperate now. So desperate and in pain that they didn't even notice us only wallowing in their own agony.

However something else crossed my mind. Something Kadokechi taught me about men and black operations

Someone had tried to burn the building down making it look like an accident. Like a random gunfight and cover up what happened here.

And in the middle of that was the Werewolf we had encountered.

**(Po POV)**

I could not feel anything but the blood on my shirt. The wet, red liquid stained my clothes. I felt light-headed, weak and powerless. It was a situation that I had faced many times in my life but never before have I felt that this is the end for me.

If this is truly the end I have no regrets. My children are happily married and living well. My affairs have been taken care of. But I can't help but feel sorrow for my grandchildren and my wife. They will never see their grandfather come home again.

The only thing that was stopping me from giving into the welcoming prescene of the unconsciousness is the four boys who are holding me up and carrying me out.

I can hear their voices, their shouts and their gunshots.

"He's losing too much blood!" one of their shouted.

I can't believe it. This is the end. But I will not die like this. If a group of seven year olds can carry me away from this disaster than I can find the energy to help them along the way. Its why I'm walking instead of lying down on the ground.

"Where's the others?" shouts a man. His voice seems worried, raspy and harsh but I detect no malice from him. The voice must be always like that.

"In the lobby!" shouts one of the boys.

In the lobby? What does that mean? Wait there are four of them here? Then that means that … Harry and Ediz stayed behind. Why? To save me? I'm not worth their lives. Trading time for their lives and throwing them away to casually. I cannot condone that I cannot. Not as uncle Po. Not as a Sun On Yee and not as –

Darkness filters Po's mind as the strain becomes too much for him. The last thing he remembers is the feeling of leather against his suit.

(**Ulrica's POV)**

I could only growl at the burning building the three of us were in. This was not how I envisioned it. Stupid catering staff. They ran at the first sign of trouble. However that was expected. He didn't expect good service from cheap labour. In fact he was planning on killing some of them later to increase his share of the profits.

It was why he had killed the Necromancer. The bastard was someone he hated with a passion and only hired him for his mediocre skills in the dark arts. The man was down on his luck and desperate for cash having been kicked out of several countries for illegal practices. His Wendigos were proving to be liability, not that they were much to begin with as they were very useless in the first place.

I cracked my neck. These kids had shot me a lot. Fortunately for me the cloak I had been wearing was bulletproof. Unfortunately the "Birds of Prey" always used Incenary rounds. It wasn't something that surprised me. In fact it was something that I had expected. What I didn't expect was the round to be _accompanied _in a .5 calibre bullet and scorching hot. While I didn't feel the full effects of the bullets hitting my chest I could vividly remember the feeling.

Scorching, hot coals would have been less painful than the bullets.

It was why I had to discard my vest. It was useless now having been burnt by the ammunition the children were using. It would be a good idea to grab one of their pistols later. But now I had a job to do. The Wendigos continued to swarm around the little boys before I commanded them to stop. My influence on them would only last a few minutes before they realized I wasn't their master.

"Kadokechi can't protect you know," I taunted as the fire spread to the table-clothes and paintings in the lobby. The chairs were smoking and charred black. As a werewolf I was more resistant to fire. But even I didn't want to take the risk of the being here when the building collapsed.

"Give me Remo and -"

A shot ran through the air. The body of the werewolf now slumped to the floor. Without any control, any survival instincts and any rational thought, the Wendigos swarmed the body of the fallen werewolf.

However many of them also attacked Ediz and Harry.

**(Jingo POV)**

I rushed through the hotel, shooting my way through the staff and the weird zombies. Dam it, where are they? The flock had invited me to the wedding as a show of trust and good will and how to I repay them? I leave them to die.

I had only gone out to get the magnificent wine Uncle Po had told me about. However that's when things went to hell. The building was showing the first signs of fire having been preluded by the sounds of screaming. It was no longer a n

Shotgun and Grenade in hand I kick down the door. The sight before me seems like hell on earth. Leather and paper have been burnt to the ground flames engulfing what might have been priceless art. Black, poisonous smoke fills the air. The smell makes me cough from all the toxins. Sounds of falling wood greets my ears with cries of zombies and gunshots. I don't hesitate throwing a grenade at the horde of screaming people.

So I did what any good person would have done in that situation. Crashed a car into the building. Well after I got directions from Remo.

The grenade explodes spreading napalm all over the bodies of the courses. The boys will survive this. As expected I see two small bodies jumping over the flames. I've made the fire worse however and our time is running out.

"Get to the car!" I shouted in Portuguese.

Harry tried to take as step before freezing up. Ediz wasn't following. In fact he seemed to be barely staying on his feet. He wasn't sweating, his limbs were hanging limply and his mouth was only partly open.

I knew that stance.

Ediz wasn't dead yet. However he was definitely going to be in the next few minutes. There was no way it wasn't possible. Half his face had been chewed off, his chest had been slashed and there were half a dozen small holes in his chest from armor piercing rounds.

I pulled both of their collars, half dragging half lifting both of them to the car. Telling Harry to get to the wheel I checked his vitals. It was faint at the moment and was getting worse my the minute. Taking a deep breath I reassured,

"Everything's going to be okay."

"Come on, we're nearly at there," shouted Harry over the steering wheel hopefully.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that this might be the end for his friend. I just couldn't. Dam it, I was getting to attached to these kids.

With several headlights screaming, several ambulances stopped beside us. Paramedics rushed into our car taking us away. But it was too little too late.

I could only stare at Ediz's corpse as his body slumped to the stretched. He just lay there smiling. As if accepting his faith.

"I'm sorry. I guess this is the end for me," gasped Ediz.

Those were the last things he said before his breathing stopped. The Paramedics tried everything to bring him back; adrenaline, shock, injections. Nothing. I knew this was going to happen. It was too late.

A wet sob reached my ears from behind me. I closed my eyes not wanting to see Harry crying, letting the paramedics take me and most of all, letting my mind drift.

He was gone.

Ediz was gone.

**Author's Note:**

**I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to review and vote on my new poll.**

**By the way to all you people reading for the Harry/Fleur romance, it won't happen for a very long time. I'm just having too much fun writing the action and drama as it is. There is so much on my mind.**


	16. Chapter 14: The Promised Land

**Author's Note: Once again I would like to thank everyone who took the time to review my stories. Thank you very much. Especially Wolfking57 who is my greatest fan. I also notice that many of you might leave if I don't show some Fleur/Harry action. Rest assured it will happen in the next four or five chapters.**

**A few more things. There is a new poll on my profile for all those interested.**

**My forum is still up on my profile for those who wish to join it.**

**Don't forget. Read and Review**

**Chapter 14: The Promised Land**

I couldn't breath. I couldn't think. I couldn't even cry Leopolo and Ediz. Ediz and Leopolo. Was my quest truly worthless? Was the path I was leading my brothers through the one that will lead our deaths. I couldn't find the desire to say no. I couldn't. This was happening to us. We thought we could be powerful. Topple the world. But we can't. We need more time. We need more experience.

At the moment all five us are just mortals dealing with forces beyond our comprehension. We were facing against immortals who could be gods and mortals with powers that defy reality. How did it make me feel? I don't know. All I know is that I feel confused. Something like this is expected to happen in the mercenary world.

Every year 7 million people became professional mercenaries. Of that number 90% don't survive their first year. The next four years are either spent making a name of yourself or running away from people you have pissed off. This was because most mercenaries didn't have the self-control to maintain and hold their self-destructive behaviors at bay. While mercenaries did make name of themselves, they also got more famous and so became targets of assassination. We were in this category. The survival rate of people who live past their first year is 10%.

This means that of the 7 million people who initially decide to become mercenaries, less than 70,000 live past their first five years. After that working as a mercenary is usually a lifetime choice. The people that survive realize that this is the only world they fit in anymore. That they can only exist in a state of death. It was probably what Kadokechi had planned for us.

We got so used to killing that it becomes the only profession we can be comfortable with. But I couldn't blame him. Sao Palme needed soldiers. It needed assassins who can do their jobs. It needed people who were daggers at night, black ops specialists to be exact. In my opinion he couldn't have been more wrong.

I took a cigarette out. I know I'm destroying my lungs but I can't shake the feeling of dread and fear off me. Back when Leopolo died was sobbing for days before I recovered. Now that we learned that he was alive that changed. I believed and desperately hoped that we could find him. But now, Ediz was dead. He was gone and was never going to come back. It's like we traded one brother for another.

It didn't even seem fair in my opinion. We got nothing out of Uncle Po or the guests. I sighed before taking a deep whiff of the cigarette. It all seemed to have been for nothing. That was the reason why I liked my job. It wasn't because it was a world I belonged to. It wasn't even because I was a psychopath.

I stayed and did my job as a mercenary because it was the only form of family I had left in this world. My eyebrows furrowed at the thought making me scrowl. I hated my father. Of all people in this world I hated him. Being the son of a French Lord was supposed to mean that you lived a privelaged life. One without worries and misgivings. In fact most of my brothers envied me at first, believing that I had been wrongfully kidnapped.

I wasn't. In fact I was sold to Kadokechi. I was sold to that bastard. But even so I couldn't help but shake the fact that Kadokechi was more of an father than my biological one ever was.

It was why I had gone to great lengths to disfigure myself. I couldn't help but vomit everytime I looked in the mirror. A year ago I hated the blonde hair, blue eyes and unscarred, white skin that greeted me every day. I despised it. It was why I had taken it as a morning routine to scar myself a little. Just a little everyday so that it looked like one of those rare skin conditions.

I remembered waking up every morning every since I was sold to Kadokechi, despising the world for what it was. My father only wanted a dynasty, become an emperor of the human race. He wanted power and went to unbelievable lengths to do so. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't a very competent businessman. In fact he was a horrible, gambling drunk with an extreme love for grandur. What was once generations and generations of hard earned millions which stretched to various properities vanished in less than 15 years ever since my father inherited it.

He was terrible investor and a stupid, spoiled man, having never worked a day in his life. Better men have become billionaires through sheer trial by fire. I knew I was on the way to one. Kadokechi was expected to be one by the dawn of the 21st century. Afterall the man wasn't just a president. He wasn't just the head of a international shipping company. He wasn't just an arms dealer. He was a mercenary, a man of death and a symbol of stern, but kindly resolve.

It was why I enjoyed working for him. I too wanted to become a person of great wealth. To prove the world that you didn't have to be born rich to become rich. I wanted to turn nothing into something. It was what Kadokechi had done. The man was 65 years old and survived world war 2.

I could listen to the arguing between the representatives and Uncle Po. The wedding was a disaster. What should have been the beginning of a new era of peace and ascenstion between the major criminal groups of Eastern Asia has turned into a bloodbath. Everyone was pointing fingers at each other.

A Mas 1873 revolver was the pistol in my hand. It was a historical artifact which demonstrated the beginning or the end of the era. I tilted the pistol toward the door but didn't fire. There was no point at the moment. Kicking down the door wasn't going to do anything. If things turned bad I could just take everyone hostage and calm them down. It has worked many times. Holding someone at gunpoint does wonders to their self-control and cooperation.

But I don't. Not now, not yet. While the representatives are being violent and screaming at the top of their lungs there is nothing that can be done. Uncle Po is basically the only person keeping the situation from escalating and sparking another world War. It made me chuckle morridely. I was stopping a war through the application of force. Just like the Soviets and Americans are doing right now in the Middle East.

I look through the window of the door which is showing the hospital room number.I can't see anything that is going on from the curtains that are covering the windows. But I can hear them. They seem to be dying down now. Good. I don't want to kill them. There are hundreds of people that will easily pay me millions for their deaths. The bounty on the President of the United States is $625 million, US, and is rising everyday. For the representatives the number is most likely is around 10 million. Even so it's not worth the risk … yet.

However my attention now focused on the image of myself reflecting off of the mirror. I can't see much of myself but I do notice a few things. A year ago my hair was sily and blonde. Today it is now dusty, brown with growing whiffs of white and silver. I have to bleach my hair every day to stop myself from being noticed from the distinctive color. It's not good for business. In fact I notice that it's something we all have started to develop. Ediz had white-silver hair, god rest his soul, before he died. Harry has started to develop a noticeable amount of random silver hair. He seems to design it in such a way that he emphasizes his raven hair.

Espen's hair has started to lose his hair. Remo and Henrique on the other hand have started to have their pupils. Both their irises have turned grey in color and Henrique's have started to develop a thin almost unnoticeable red halo around it. I would need to tell him to fix it later.

I look at everyone. Harry's slumped asleep in a cast, Remo is dozing off and Henrique is fiddling with his eyes before looking nervously at the lights. Me and Espen are the only one's who are calm and fully awake at the moment. I don't have the heart to tell them to soldier on though. Today's been a hell of a day. Not like when we were caught in the middle of a nuclear blast but close enough.

Remo's been shot at in the chest twice but he quickly recovered thanks to the flak jacket. On the other hand I'm not so lucky. A bullet had richoted off a wall and smashed into my right cheek just a few centimeters below my right eye. It was difficult just looking around. The health staff had given me a few painkillers and regular checkups but I knew it wouldn't help.

All those mercenaries had been using mercury rounds. The poisoning had nearly killed us. The vapor had nearly killed me and the flock. The only reason we were alive was because we stuck to cover and the staff were idiots. The werewolves were easy to deal with since they were obviously normal people who were getting high on the adrenaline and senses. It was like fighting junkies.

Flanking and shooting our way out with Uncle Po was somewhat difficult was difficult but doable. The only thing we had to worry about now as the fact that our world was coming crashing down. People were starting to connect the dots. It won't be long before the magical world becomes revealed. Personally I don't care but I don't want to fight mages. At least not now. We needed better equipment, better weapons and more information before I even decided to take the risk.

Unfortunately for me Jingo finally decided to show up. He had spent a few hours with his breathing and searching for information. I couldn't blame him. I also wanted to find Leopolo. I didn't want to make Ediz sacrifice in vain. It was another reason why I liked Jingo. Despite being from completely racial backgrounds he treated us harshly, but fairly like he did to any of his men.

Growing up in a wealthy family racism was everywhere. It was why my father also found himself in debt and had to sell me to Kadokechi. He refused to deal with people of different backgrounds or who he believed to be "lower" or "inferior" than him. IT turned to come back on to him showing how naïve he was about the world around him. He was the kind of a pond but when he tried to grow in the ocean he just found himself eaten.

"What did you find?" I asked Jingo.

Never in a million years would I believe that I would be leading this group but here I am doing just that. Harry is suppose to be second in line but he's too tramatized by Ediz's death to do anything. I can't blame him.

"A lot of things but if you want the answer you are looking for I have none," replied Jingo solemly.

"But I do," interrupted Po walking out of the room.

I raise my eyebrows.

"Why aren't you in there dealing with them," I gestured with my cigarette.

He scrowled at the article in my hand before continuing.

"What do you know about Alaska?" he asked

I dropped my cigarette. Shit!

**Author's Note:**

**Read and Review**


	17. Chapter 15: On the fence

**Author's Note: The first thing I would like to do at the moment is thank everyone for reviewing my stories such as Wolfking 57, 5phoenix and Ivycloak.**

**Another thing I would like to mention is that I have new forum on my profile. Anyone who wishes to join into the story and add their input may go to the forum.**

**The third thing I would like to mention is that in this arc which I dub the "Lust Arc" will show Fleur/Harry moment so hold on.**

**To all those wondering the POV of the previous chapter's was Guiche**

**Thank for reading this note.**

**Chapter 15: On the fence**

Date: 19/12/13

Time: 2000 local.

Location: Alaska

Mission: Brush up on leads about sacrifices from the Succubus.

(Espen POV)

Today was a miserable day. It was winter in Alaska at the moment. That meant that it was night for half a year. Personally I hated the feeling of snow and frostbite. But most of all I hated large waterbodies. It didn't stop me from doing my job on ships and boats but I avoided them nonetheless.

Water made me nervous. Ever since I nearly drowned in the local lake when I was four I stayed clear of any form of water. Kadokechi's training had helped me get over it somewhat but it still made me cautious. It was why I wasn't liking this mission at all. We were treading on thin ice at the moment. Both literally and figuratively.

While not quite thin, a foot of it still made me nervous. A foot of ice was all that was keeping me from a cold, watery death. It shuddered. No one seemed to mind. It was expected. At nearly 30 degrees below zero Celsius this was the coldest time of the year. Frost bite was rampant. If a person spent around half an hour exposed to the environment without any adequate clothing it was almost certain that they would lose their life. The same could be said about the ice. Fall in and all it takes is 2 minutes for it to kill you.

"When are getting there?" I questioned. Even though we had only been outside of five minutes I was impatient.

Cold and water were the two things I hated the most.

Guiche turned to me at that statement.

"Right now," he gestured.

At that we entered cleft of the rock, another hotel. The only reason we didn't have a booking here was because it was full at the moment from both military personnel, researchers and tourists. Mostly tourists.

"Anything we should know about this person?" asked Henrique loading his PB silently. It was something Kadokechi taught us the first time.

Loading your weapons so silently that most people wouldn't hear it and even those that could would only here a small click.

"Other than the fact that he's our ticket up North? Not much," replied Guiche.

His laid back attitude had disappeared the day Ediz had died. Maybe if Ediz was still here Guiche would be joking with us. But he's not. Ediz is dead.

At the moment our job is simple. Find ride up north. Going by land is not an option as it would take too long. Most vehicles would require that we drive four nearly 4 days before we reached our destination.

There was a reason why we were at Tok, Alaska at the moment. It was the most Northern place with decent accommodations that we could find.

Anywhere else was too south and close to civilization. Here anyone can make a buy on weapons and goods and the local authorities look the other way. Their stretched too thin anyways.

Besides this is Russian soil at the moment. With the cold war reaching a new height in tension, many skirmishes were occurring between the Americans and the Soviets. Even if the Soviet Union did buy Alaska, there was still plenty of Americans who didn't want to leave the land. Tensions are thick and people are ready to explode in most large cities. It was also why we were here.

None of us wanted to get in the crossfire between the two opposing sides. Tok was both North and far away from the border meaning that the conflict didn't have a significant chance of destabilizing our hunt for Leopolo.

That and because Mooseberry Inn was a child friendly Hotel. Even if our profession caused us to kill hundreds of people we were still children. It would be very suspicious if we showed up in a large hotel without supervision.

"So where's our man?" questioned Remo.

I scanned the area glancing at any in the cabins that was signaling to us. All we got was a picture of our informant and where to meet him. He didn't have the foresight to tell us which cabin.

Harry pointed a gloved finger at one of the smaller cabins. We all turned to face his direction. At the door was a man waving at us before beckoning us to follow. I relaxed slightly before checking the area for traps and explosives. Can't be to careful. It would have taken me a full minute to examine the area if Henrique hadn't shouted.

"No explosives. It's not a trap,"

I nodded thanking him for saving us some time. In our group I was the engineer. I fix practical problems. Henrique was the demolitions guy. He could turn any household chemical into an explosive. While we were all fairly competent in all fields each one of us had a specialization.

"Good," replied a familiar voice. I turned to look over my shoulder. It seem like Ediz was … all I saw was snow, ice and the road.

I miss Ediz.

The other four trudged into the cabin. It was fairly cold out here. I scanned the area one last time before joining them.

The cabin itself was fairly nice. There was a warm fireplace, a couple of rocking cheers, four beds and three beds.

At the moment we were currently speaking with Jahleed a former search and rescue helicopter pilot. He was kicked out of the instituition though because he was found taking with possession of drugs and other contrabands. Fairly mild when compared with all the other types of guys we've met and dealt with.

"So can you get us to the reserve?" asked Guiche, examining Jahleed.

The man was only a foot taller than us so we weren't worried. But the fact was, Jahleed was a skilled Helicopter pilot. One that was desperate enough to take us to the reserve. We were paying him a lot.

"Yes. As for my fee," he bargained.

Instantly Guiche pulled out nearly $120,000.

"Half now, Half later when you get us back," he stated in a tone that left no room for bargain.

It was common sense. Don't pay anyone the full amount upfront. Wealthy people foolishly did that and got killed quite easily.

For a minute Jahleed stared at the cash before taking it to a nearby lamp examining it. He was checking if was counterfeit or not. A brief nod demonstrated that it was real.

"Good," he replied, "I'll be picking you up two days after I leave you in the reserve. Why you want to go there is not my problem. Just remember. You better pay up when I get back."

Jahleed hopelessly tried to imtimidate us. While none of us were scared,, having face Kadokechi's "Cut his fingers look" and Jingo's "Let me burn you alive" snarl, we didn't retort. Our lives were in the hands of this man. There was no need to antagonize him.

"Good," nodded Harry, "Do you have our equipment?"

Jahleed nodded.

"Received it two nights before. It's in the helicopter. I don't see why you're going so heavily armed but it's not my concern."

"Thank you," Harry stated before looking at us.

We all understood the implications of our mission. Jingo had warned us that this was our last chance before Kadokechi pulled the plug on our little "search". The operations were were doing were a liability to him at the moment.

We were also going in armed to teeth expecting stiff resistance. From what we've gathered form the Shadow Broker, there was a group of sirens, Succubus, werewolves and hundreds of baseline and possessed humans in the area. He also stated that he got several pictures of someone that looked similar to Leopolo.

Apparently they were experimenting on humans. Problem was all the experiments ended with the humans dead. As a result the sirens decided to simply spare the humans pain and sacrifice them on December the 21st. Not a good thing. There were several problems with this information once we received it. We were fighting magical beings. They were creatures stronger physically than the baseline human, more adapted to the weather, outnumbered us and but were magical at that.

By going in, we were also facing the Illuminati. This wasn't your average soldiers. These were members of the big three. It meant that they were part of the 70,000 mercenaries aligned to one of the much larger secret societies at the moment.

Fortunately for us there were only a dozen or so core members and hundreds of uninitiated. Fighting them was going to be difficult but not impossible.

"Are you sure the information is accurate?" questioned Harry the first times things came up.

It was also the first time we heard about the Shadow Broker, the largest information Broker in the world and aligned with the Dragon. Uncle Po had passed on the information to Jingo while stating that the Broker was most likely the main informant if not outright the leader of one of the big three.

It was quite possibly all of them

"Of course. From what I know, if he gives false information that means his reputation is screwed and if that's the case, he dies," answered Guiche.

I nodded. Information brokering was a lucrative if dangerous game to play. Knowledge is power and playing the game means that you go all in … all the time.

Half an hour later we found ourselves examining our weapons just a few meters from a Sirkorsky S-70.

I watched everyone dress themselves in with their weapons. We were using Soviet weaponry as they were better during cold weather conditions.

I glanced at my arsenal. Like everyone else I had an emergency transmitter, first aid kit, a week's worth of rations and cold weather body armor. This included the standard vest, scarves, socks, mountain boots and a cap. We were also wearing M40 gas masks.

Most of our body clothing was American due to the cheapness and availiability.

I looked down at my weapons. A PK machine Gun, a blow torch, six grenades and Pp-19 Bixon for back up. Of course I still carried my standard PB revolver.

That gun was something we all were carrying at the moment. I glanced at Guiche. Well except Guiche. He carried a Mas 1873 Service Revolver. I checked Guiche making sure that he had his weapons as well. It wasn't necessary but I was looking out for him anyways.

He was carrying two Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine guns. He was also carrying another two M9 pistols and a sword which was strapped to his back.

I looked at Harry who was checking his modified Finish Sako TRG. That was an impressive sniper rifle. Over the last two years Harry has made it even more impressive increasing its standard range to 1050 meters. Of course in the right conditions he could shoot anything from 1800 meters away though.

He also carried two incenary grenades and knife. Pretty light but when you consider the fact that he's suppose to be shooting targets from a distance and you understand that Harry isn't suppose to carry a lot.

Henrique on the other hand is carry enough explosives to take out any platoon. He has a 9k38 igla _homing missile system,_ four POMZs, four RGO hand Grenades and AGS-17 and a Saiga 12 shotgun. The reason why he has so much at the moment is because Henrique is going to be doing most of the heavy lifting. Its also why he has the best armor. His life is at the risk the most on this mission.

Remo is helping Henrique carry some of his stuff. That said he isn't going in light anyways. Remo has an Ak-74 strapped to his back and carry an M16 rifle in his hands. Like Guiche he's also carrying a bladed weapon. In his case though, it's a hatchet. Remo also has two grenades and two PMN mines on him.

The most notable thing about us though is the fact that instead of using incenary rounds all five us are using poison. Ricin to be exact. If we were using our weapons on an normal human target the UN would be on us like a pack of wolves. That is if they could find out. The power the UN held as collective body of humanity was reducing every year as the cold war turned "hot".

It was lukewarm now. Especially when Alaska was bought by the Soviet Union from America.

The other weapons we were carrying … let's just say they were less than humane. I looked at the largest we

Finally our largest weapon in our arsenal. Our field artillery was an T-12 Anti tank gun. Jahleed at the moment was busy strapping the ropes around it. He was suppose to transport it there with us and back.

Afterall we didn't buy it. Otherwise we'd be broke. It was more of a "favor" thing.

All five us stepped into the helicopter as the blades started to spin. Slowly the helicopter's blades gained momentum until finally they were ready for takeoff. The five of us were strapped in at the moment, fully armed and with nearly 40 explosives and 20,000 pieces of ammunition between us.

It might seem overkill but considering who were going up against Guiche believed that it was necessary. For the next two hours Jahleed transported us to the reserve up north. Steadily the temperature got colder. My lips were starting to feel frosty, even though they were covered at the moment. Placing my machine gun on my lap I readjusted my scarf.

Frostbite might kill me. Eventually we reached our destination or more or less the river.

"Here's your stop boys," he shouted over the spinning blades. We were 25 kilometers away from the camp. Guiche nodded before raising two fingers.

We knew the hand sign he was making and jumped off the moment Jahleed landed the helicopter.

"See you in two days," he shouted as a farewell.

The five of us merely waved at him before we set up a place to stay for the night. We couldn't light a fire as it would give our location away.

Harry raised his hand signaling he was taking first watch. Everyone nodded before returning to their sleeping bags. We were going to need the rest tomorrow.

**Author's Note: Read and Review**

**By the way the only reason I wrote Alaska is because I wanted my readers to understand where this is taking place at the moment**


	18. Chapter 16:Night operations

**Author's Note: I would like to thank everyone for reviewing my stories.**

**I hope you take the time to review my stories once again.**

**My forum is currently linked on my profile for anyone who chooses to participate in this story.**

**My poll is still up at the moment.**

**Now it begins.**

**Chapter 16: Night Operation**

It had been 16 hours since we had landed on the reserve. It had been 12 hours since we got the location on the base of the Illuminati. For the past half day we had simply been watching them routinely through shifts. Nothing could go wrong. Against all odds we had to save Leopolo no matter what.

I checked the radar on our Heads Up display. Using Satellite Imagining and tracking devices I could easily see the location of my brothers and our enemies. At the moment there were exactly 102 different heat signatures that the Satellites identified. At the moment there were nearly 10,000 satellites in orbit. Over the course of the next six hours approximately 300 of them will scan this region from space giving us a minute to minute analysis on the details of our opposition. We could literally see their position.

However this wasn't an ordinary operation. At the moment we were committing a night operation. Even a person with normal vision would have their senses heightened to incredibly degrees at night. Sounds, smells and little lights are much more recognizable during the night. It was an evolutionary adaptation. After learning about the magical world I could see why.

At night the sounds of simply walking is amplified greatly. A normal person could hear footsteps from 30 meters away, sniff out a cigarette from 150 meters away downwind and a muzzle flash could been seen from a mile away. Recognizable sounds would be more easily identified from farther distances. For supernatural beings whose senses were greater than that of any human being on this planet the distance would be much more.

It was why we had to be careful. Walking the two kilometers down the slope took them nearly 4 hours. Once the bullets started flying there was no turning back. We wanted to be in the position of greatest advantage before we started shooting.

The building itself was fairly easily to spot. Instead of camp like we were expecting when we got here what greeted us was a building. A four story building that had no body watching it from the roof tops.

Well nobody smart in my opinion. I kept my thoughts to myself. Conversation on radio can be heard from a hundred meters away. It wouldn't look good for me to blow my cover. I took a good look at the rooftop of the building for sentinels. Apparently there were two humans looking extremely bored at the moment.

Fools. They believed that they were safe. They thought that no one would want to kill them in the middle of nowhere. At the moment they had no idea who they were dealing with.

Even though the sniper rifle was nearly as large as me I still held it steady. There was no point pulling the trigger now.

In the cover of darkness Guiche easily took care of them with his bare hands. By suffocating one and snapping the neck of another.

The other three slowly entered the facility. I took a deep breath continuing my watch. This was going to get messy.

(Henrique POV)

Guiche raised four fingers before pointing two down and making them walk.

I nodded. Quietly the three of us descended down the air vents while Guiche loaded the explosives. A 1 millionth ton of TNT to be exact. It was set to detonate in one hour. Plenty of time to destroy this facility if we failed. While the explosive was remote detonated only Guiche had the power to make it explode prematurely. Otherwise the standard one hour time would continue. The clock was ticking now.

58 minutes and 27 seconds were left on the clock. It was displayed on the watches we were carrying so that all of us had the ability to get at least 150 meters away from this building. The place was going down in flames. If we didn't finish the job by the five minute mark the operation was a failure and we were leaving.

I didn't like the way it was occurring but I agreed nonetheless.

At the moment my job was to create chaos. It was the job with the most risks.

I signaled to Guiche my making my hand slap the air.

"Have you found where Leopolo is located?" I asked.

We were very lucky that we were so small the air vents wouldn't fit for us otherwise. How stupid could these people be? Another thing that we noticed was the fact that there were several fans and heaters in the area. Overloading them would cause any flammable liquid to catch on fire.

"In the basement," replied Guiche before grabbing his Heckler and Koch.

None of us had safety gauntlets or ropes so we had to do this using a knife. Once we reached the first floor the four of us nodded. Time to take action.

Grabbing a knife I stabbed the air vents before peeling the thin aluminum off.

The noise should have alerted security by now. I didn't care however. Why? Because at that moment our distraction arrived.

Well more or less Harry's distraction.

A missile slammed into the building wall.

The 9k38 missile utterly destroyed the building wall. Being used as a surface to air missile it wasn't expected to destroy infantry or buildings. Instead it was used against helicopters, low flying planes and possibly vehicles. Against building walls that were at most a foot thick and made of brick the missile was overkill.

But Harry had come through.

On Satellite we could see how the missile streaked into the building slamming through the front door and into the front office before blowing up. The sheer explosion destroyed nearly a quarter of the tower bringing in the arctic wind.

It was getting hot in here anyways. Nevertheless it wasn't a problem as we were already on our way down the stairs to the basement. Our opposition would be so focused taking care of the situation at hand that they wouldn't bother with us.

Another fortunate thing was the casualties the missile inflicted. At the moment the infrared radar showed that nearly 9 people died in the blast and 14 were currently in various forms of injuries. That leaves 79 people to deal with evening the odds slightly. However Harry comes through by the time we're examining the cages for our friend a second missile strikes the building. I don't have time to check the casualties though.

Taking a good glance at the cages I can't help but feel sorry for the conditions these people were currently living in. The Illuminati must really hate them. The cells are rat infested, various gothic symbols and numbers are drawn in blood on the prison walls and I even notice the body of a small six year old boy hanging from the cell bars.

In here there is no heating available to keep the prisoners warm. Several of them are suffering from many forms of frostbite and wearing bloodstained _mismatched _coats. It doesn't take a stretch of imagination to understand what happened to them.

If it was up to me I would come back and save every last one of them. But we don't have the time to it. We only came here to save Leopolo and no matter how much it would frustrated and traumatize me I have to leave these people behind.

Besides it's not our job to save them. That's what the security force is for.

"Found him," exclaims Remo happily before shooting the cell lock. The sound of the gunshot echoes throughout the prison.

"Good we're getting him out of here alive," replied Guiche before talking over the radio.

"Radio silence and conversation is cancelled at the moment. All units are allowed to use whatever means necessary to escape but the client comes first. I repeat, protecting the client comes first."

Even though he says client no one can deny that Guiche is happy. He's even smiling at the moment.

Leopolo is very thin at the moment. What was once his strong, lean and muscular body is now the classic example of starvation. The coat he is wearing is three sizes too big and I notice many of his toes are missing.

"We're getting you out of here," whispered Guiche before placing Leopolo at his side while holding his submachine gun with the other.

There's a reason why he came here light.

"You came back?" smiles Leopolo groggily. I smile under my helmet.

We definitely did buddy. We definitely did.

"No one gets left behind," grunts Guiche dragging Leopolo with him as he doesn't seem to have the strength to walk.

Even from thick coat he is wearing I can notice how thin Leopolo his. His feet are bony and his hands are cold. What fingers he has left are thin and bony in a similar manner to an insect. He's lost all his body fat by now. At the moment he's drifting into the conscious state of mind.

"They told me you wouldn't come. That no one would save me," He continues weakly as Remo helps carry him as Guiche is having trouble at the moment. Taking the initiative I take point. Besides I'm the most armed of everyone here. I can take it. At the moment I'm wearing various parts of a bomb suit.

"I'm sorry," apologizes Remo carrying Leopolo. I think he deserved an apology after the fact that he's been living in this hell hole for as long as I knew.

"What about us!" shouted a man from behind another one of those cells.

For a moment I thought about letting him stay. It would be much easier. On the other hand … cocking my pistol I shot three cells locks.

"Leave if you want," I stated.

With that we left for the stairs.

(Leopolo POV)

He was overjoyed when he discovered that his brothers came back for him. They said that no one was going to come for him. That it was a foolish hope. At first he believed that it was a delusion from all the drugs they had experimented on him. The Illuminati was pushing the very boundaries of human limits and they were cooking all kinds of drugs to make the perfect "Super soldier" that they were going to sell to the highest bidder.

They were starting a new arms race. He had to tell them that they were walking into something that they hardly could believe. It was insane. But it was working. Everything that had been built in this facility was meant for that. That's why there were werewolves, vampires, sirens, succubus and Veelas here.

The Illuminati wanted to make the perfect weapon. The pinnacle of human evolution. At first he believed that the people that he saw weren't real. Those monsters didn't exist. But they did. The monsters he feared existed and his brothers were in the middle of their territory. I tried to tell them that it was hopeless.

That it was

A shot rang through the air

(Henrique POV)

"Man down!" shouted Guiche pulling Leopolo back.

There was no warning. No sounds of approaching targets, no sounds of breathing, hell nothing. All I heard was a growl and a werewolf jumps down from the ceiling holding a pistol and started shooting us.

Quickly Remo and Guiche dashed to cover leaving me to deal with the insane werewolf. Taking a large swipe at me the werewolf's claws edge deep into my armor. My flak jacket keeps me alive but even so I feel winded.

I hear shooting and three seconds later the werewolf's body slumps. I look at Guiche who is now holding his submachine gun.

"Dam werewolf," he grunts before noticing the wolf twitching.

Lifting it up, Guiche fires a single shot penetrating the wolf's brain. The grey and pink matter leaks from the opposite side of its skull before being followed quickly be a trickle of blood.

"Thanks."

Guiche only nods before looking at the dead body of the werewolf. It's strange. Tonight's not a full moon. Why were they transformed? At the moment I don't care but I make a mental note to look it up later.

"I load a clip into this bastard and they still stand up," he grunts. Even as he's speaking the wounds of the werewolf body partly heal itself before stopping.

The poison but have finally set in stopping the healing process and killing the body.

"Let's go," I signaled before taking point again. Guiche takes front.

Espen decides to work his magic. On our radar we see the images a 100mm round before ittears through the wall streaking into a greater part of the hallway.

The 9k38s were only the beginning.

"Gas masks on," orders Guiche before passing one to Leopolo.

However Leopolo is too weak to put it on so I do it for him. Just in time.

Mustard gas streaks through the first floor. Blisters begin to appear around the buildings inhabitants. I hear their screams of pain as we hurried to the nearest door. Not taking any chances we enter another room. Remo quickly bolted the door shut.

I glance at the window hearing the occasional shots of a sniper rifle. Harry's busy at the moment taking care of opposition. So is Espen at that matter.

At the moment Espen's job is to flood the area with Chlorine, Mustard and Phosgene Gas. They will dissipate in a half an hour. He made sure of it. However his job is to also take care of any aircraft that is entering the vicinity. When we scouted the area at the a few hours ago we noticed a helicopter pad which is no doubt for arrivals. Leaving it untouched would be disastorous.

That's why Espen fired the 9k38s first. To destroy the helicopters. The T-12 is the heavy hitter now in case there are vehicles in the area.

At the moment the gas is the least of our worries. It is something we predicted that would happen. Something that we could control. What we didn't expect was entire squad of Sirens to come running at us the moment we shut the door.

What assaults us is a mixture of pleasant sounds and sights. For a moment time stops as I just lazily examine the sirens. Their fair skin, loose, wavy hair and beautiful eyes enchant me. It feels as though I could stare at them all day. Their blue eyes are like two seas. Violent, independent and answering no one. I can't help but feel relaxed at the sight of them and the song they are singing.

I feel like I'm on a cloud. For a moment I lose myself to my imagination. I'm falling into the seas below. Nothing else matters to me in this world nothing ... at all. The water is filled with the pleasant songs and beautiful women beckoning me to join them. I want to swim to them. I want …

Gunshots interrupt my thoughts. The world shifts back to cold, unforgiving reality. Air rushes in and I remind myself of the situation. I'm in a combat zone fighting in enemy territory. I notice the sirens rushing at us singing their songs and beautiful melodies. This time though I resist it.

Pulling the trigger I spray the eight sirens with bullets. Four of them fall from our combined assault. One however continues to charge at Remo as he's reloading.

I see the fear in his eyes before his whips out his PK and shoot the bitch twice in the head. The siren doesn't get up.

A sharp pain brings be back. The sirens hands gripe against my skin before ripping it off. It hurts much worse than what I've ever faced before.

I hear shouting and the Siren gets off of me.

The pain is unimaginably unbearable. Quickly I administrate the painkillers into the body. They help but only a little. Now I can feel the pain more distinctly if on a much lesser scale.

(Guiche POV)

Henrique is down. The siren is doing a number on him. Grabbing his shotgun I fire shooting her body. The shells spray in the mid-section. Calmly I lower the shotgun. I want her to suffer as she dies. Apparently its working. The siren is on the floor screaming at the top of her lungs in pain.

"Back to the abyss!" I shout smashing my fist against the siren's face. The bone crumples from the action.

Her skull caves in at that action. Normally I wouldn't have killed someone with my bare hands in this situation but the siren song still leaves my thoughts unclear. My thinking capacity is impaired and most of my body's nervous system is rigid. Even so it was better than nothing.

I would have shuddered at that thought. If those gunshots had happened we would be dead by now, just one of the many men lost to the siren songs.

I look at Remo who is now helping Henrique to his feet. The entire side of his right face's skin is cleaved off. A lot of his cheek muscles are gone, with blood dripping to the floor. Remo cleans him up and give him first aid but I'm not sure if he'll last long enough. We need to get him back to camp if we want him to survive.

The lights flicker. I glance at the body of the sirens.

Shits there are only six bodies. That means that there are two sirens in the room with us this very moment.

We're locked up in here with crazy supernaturally powered women and at half our unit capacity. This isn't good.

The shelves move and I instinctly look up at the ceiling.

I can't help but feel sorry for them.

**Author's Note:**

**I would once again like to thank everyone for reviewing my story.**

**Here's the next quote:**

**They were the bullets. You were the gun. **


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